The Lion and the Lamb
by NinaBinaBallerina
Summary: The spoils of war go to the victor.
1. Beginning of the End

**The Lion and the Lamb**

Disclaimer: I do not own Hunger Games. If I did, I probably wouldn't have killed off Cato.

Fair Warning: This story won't be about butterflies and sunshine, so the rating of M is there for a reason. M= mature, so if you aren't, go ahead and do a back click now. Save yourself the indignity and me the headache.

Before We Begin: In no way will this be child-Prim with an 18-year-old. Gross, just gross. I did not make Cato a pedophile. If you were expecting that, go somewhere else with your voyeurism. There will be a chapter of two before she is older. Be patient young grasshoppers.

Song Suggestion: Naughty Boy- LALALA ft. Sam Smith. If you want another awesome version, check out the cover by Jasmine Thompson. Gives me chills Every. Time.

"_The wolf shall dwell with the lamb, and the leopard shall lie down with the young goat, and the calf and the lion and the fattened calf together; and a little child shall lead them." Isaiah 11:6_

**The Beginning of the End**

She died. Katniss died.

Primrose Everdeen wasn't allowed to watch. Gale covered her eyes as soon as the standoff on the cornucopia began. But he forgot to cover her ears.

"Prim," Katniss gurgled. Then nothing. Just as simple as that, her sister vanished. Her strength, her love, her pride, all the memories she stored of her, gone in an instant.

Her mother screamed and moaned, and Gale's hands faltered in his own grief. Through the small peepholes in his fingers, Primrose saw everything she wished she hadn't. Katniss twisted backwards with her mouth gaping opened, a river of blood running from it, and her throat...it was slashed so hard, it was almost taken clean off. Peeta's body crumpled limp next to her sister's with a giant hole in his stomach. The mutants had eaten most of his face off.

The bile riled in her stomach.

Then she saw him, Cato- the monster-covered head to toe in his victims' blood, so bright it changed the color of his fair hair. Though it wasn't the blood that bothered her, she'd seen enough of that in the Seam. It was the smile, stretching from ear to ear. He enjoyed this, enjoyed the death of her sister, the one who gave everything only so Prim may live to see her get slaughtered. Katniss was no longer Prim's hero; she was her martyr, her very own personal sacrifice.

It was all The Monster's fault.

And for the first time in her short life, Primrose Everdeen hated.

**Six months later**

Prim glared in front of her, trying to stop the tears pricking at her eyes. The death was too fresh, and this was too soon to be facing her sister's murderer.

Cato stood on the stage of District 12's city hall, glowing golden under the bright lights. He was here on his victory tour, the last stop before returning to his own home among the other victors in his district.

No lights hung in the rafters, no chants followed him on stage, and no food waited for him after. They did clap when the team arrived on stage, per requirement, but it trailed off quickly. District 12 was sending him a stark message: he wasn't wanted. But from the looks of it, it didn't seem he wanted to be here either. Cato had been picking the underside of his nails for the last half hour, though she doubted his team of stylists would have allowed any dirt to get under them in the first place.

His mentor Brutus gave a brisk speech, each word ending with a growl in the back of his throat. Then his team came up, one by one detailing their excitement and strategies of victory. After his stylist sat down, it was Cato's turn for a speech.

For the first time, he glanced into the crowd. He gave an arrogant eye roll before standing and strutting to the microphone. Most of his speech was dull and contrived. He had a speech writer, outlining every single point, and he must have practiced until he had it perfect. But the contempt was hard to mask.

Prim had watched a few of his speeches in the other districts, and it went much the same way. First, he explained his strategies before going in, the excitement of the kill, the glory of the capitol. At the end of every speech, he would give a short recount about the competitors, focusing on the tributes from the district he spoke to.

This time it was no different.

"Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark were my toughest competitors. They made worthy rivals. Especially Katniss, she was the one opponent who surprised me. District 12 should be proud." He sneered when he said it.

That was the moment her mother started crying. For the past six months, her mother could barely get out of bed, and if it wasn't required under penalty for death for her to come, she wouldn't have even woken from her never-ending sleep. She was the walking dead: hair stringy and unkempt, skin sallow and sagging, eyes puffy and empty. The hollows in her cheeks thinned to paper. If it wasn't for the baker's kindness with free weekly bread, Gale's limited meat, and Lady's milk, the whole family would have crumpled. Primrose held on to her sanity, trying to stay afloat through taking care of her mother's patients. But it didn't seem to be enough.

Crying was dangerous.

Cato's head snapped up, looking into the crowd at the noise, giving a snarl of a grimace. The cameras followed his eyesight. Primrose tried to shush her mother, pulling her into a tight hug.

"Gale, take her out of here. Please, before the peacekeepers step in." Prim whispered so that no one could hear her.

Gale nodded. His knuckles had gripped the sides of his chair since Cato walked on stage. He loosened them, pulling her mother's head to rest on her shoulder and walked out before the authorities intervened. The families of the deceased tributes were supposed to act proud, to act happy, even in their devastating grief. Their family was no different from last years, or the ones before that. People gave limited sympathy, but most just looked forward to a new year of horrors with their own children in death's shadow.

Primrose looked back on stage. In Cato's place, the mayor frantically motioned to the crowd. Her mother's cry started a waterfall of boos and hisses, and he was trying to stop them before things got out of hand. The edges of the crowd pulsed forward.

"Now, now, let's give the victor the respect he deserves. The same respect we would have given to one of our own."

The crowd quieted down slowly. Primrose gulped. Similar things happened in the other districts. She heard this as a rumor. District eleven especially. The Hob sold news on their grapevine black market, though it wasn't always to be trusted. However, Prim heard it from several of her patients, and there was one overlying message: rebellion.

Because of Katniss, they say, or rather how she said goodbye to Rue. Apparently, Katniss was not only her martyr, but all of the districts.

On one hand, Prim desired rebellion, on the other hand, she feared President's Snow's reaction. Would he take it out on the source, would he take it out on district 12? The mayor must think so. This tour must be very important.

Sweat dripped down the Mayor's cheek as the situation got under control.

She searched out Cato. He lounged in a metal chair off to the side, legs spread. One of his arms draped across of the chair next to him. And he was looking right at her.

Prim recoiled at his glare. At her backwards movement, he tilted his head a little. His dark blue eyes narrowed into points.

Then he smiled… a sinister, hair-raising smile.

**Later that Night**

The snow crunched under her feet. She couldn't sleep so Prim decided to get out of bed to go feed Lady. The goat and the cat proved invaluable comfort and companionship in these dark days.

Katniss had built a tiny shed off to the side of the house for the pet to keep it protected from the elements a few months before the games. It came in handy, but the elements were already beating it down. Rot clung to dilapidated boards, and the structure creaked in the wind.

The air bit her skin. Winter came late this year, the fierceness just around the corner. Katniss hated the cold, but Prim loved it. There was something about the crisp air burning the lungs before rejuvenating it, a quick shot of energy.

It was as she neared the shed when she heard it. A similar crunch of snow came from behind her.

She pivoted on her heel. Not but ten feet from her, stood her nightmare.

"Boo," Cato smirked at her.

She tried to be brave, like Katniss, but her body jumped a little. Tremors wiggled through her body.

"Prim, Prim, Prim," he mocked. "Don't be so afraid."

"How do you know my name?" Prim didn't realize she was backing up, until her back hit the rotting wooden door with the leather handle.

Cato ignored her question. Instead, he surveyed her yard and her house, crinkling his nose in distaste.

"So this is where the great Katniss Everdeen grew up? What a shit hole."

Prim tried not to take offense from someone like him, but it still stung a bit.

"Why are you here and how did you find me?"

Cato looked startled out of his thoughts, though it was an obvious question. Against the bright white snow, his hair and skin shimmered.

"Curiosity," he shrugged, "your peacekeepers are corrupt enough to accept a bribe."

"Please leave," her voice shook, and it came out too quiet. She sounded like a little girl, weak and defenseless. She _was _a little girl, weak and defenseless.

"Your sister took my finger. Did you know that? You must've... I can no longer wield a sword easily. " He held up his right hand to show his pointer finger cut down to the joint. It must have been so bad the Capitol couldn't fix it. "I think it's only fair I take something just as valuable from her."

The crunch of his boots moved forward, until she was trapped between the shed and him. She tried to turn her head, whimpering a little, but he just gripped her chin between his fingers and forced her to look in his eyes. The pupils were restricted, allowing the blue to fleck brilliantly in the moonlight.

"Were they tears of joy? I bet not. I hope not."

She struggled against his hold. It clamped against her skin, and it hurt more than she allowed to show. It took a second for her to realize he spoke of her mother—he taunted her. She didn't want to answer, and she was too afraid to. Katniss would have spit in his face. Prim just began to cry. She hated the wetness on her cheeks.

"Let me go."

Cato brushed his free hand against her cheek, touching her tears.

"Prim, Prim, Prim... it's all I hear. Over and over again. It's all they ever play in the recaps. You're quite the celebrity."

The goat began to kick around in her pen. She must sense her master's terror. Prim used this moment to gather her courage. She swung her fist. It hit the side of his face with a dull thwack. Cato didn't look affected, though her wrist thrummed with pain. He snatched her wrist in its descent, turning it over to examine.

"So little and dainty. I don't know how you're related to your sister. She was a real bitch, you know. I wanted to slice her head off the minute I saw her. Who did she think she was, anyway? Some slum rat coming in to defeat me? Getting a fucking eleven…"

That made Prim cry a little. She sniffled back the worst of it, determined not to give the monster anymore satisfaction.

"You got what you wanted in the arena, didn't you? So why are you trying to hurt me?"

He just glared, gripping both her chin and her wrist until she cried out.

"Prim, Prim, Prim, little lovely Prim. The crowds loved your sister, so when I won, they hated me. All of Panem grieved her last word. She ruined my victory because of _you_."

Cato pushed her face against the rough grain of the wood. The hand moved from her chin to her throat. The fingers squeezed around her windpipe, cutting off all her oxygen.

"I wish I could kill you."

"Why don't you?" Prim sputtered out as best she could. In some ways, she wished he would. He stole so much for her, why not her life.

"The crowds still want my blood. They wanted one of the love birds to live, not me. President Snow warned me... he warned me that if I could not reign in the people and make them love me, then my life would become a sacrifice for them. So my mentor came up with a brilliant, if revolting, plan. Do you know what I will tell them for their love? "

This was the first she heard of this. She couldn't breathe anymore; she kicked her feet against the snow in panic. And then he let go. She dropped into the show, giving heaving lurches to return air to her lungs.

Cato squatted down, placing his weight against his ankles. He reached a hand out, and Prim flinched backwards, sobbing. But he didn't go for her throat; he flicked one of her braids as if a playful, caring older brother.

"You'll learn tomorrow. I think I'll let the suspense hurt a little."

Cato got up and walked back the way he came. Before he got too far, he turned and smirked back in Prim's direction.

"But I will tell you that it won't last. I promise you. As soon as the Capitol's memory of the Girl on Fire dies, as soon as your usefulness dies... so shall you." He waved goodbye with the stump of a finger.

Prim was left panting against the shed, splinters in her cheeks and buzzing with fear, dread, and pain.


	2. The Natural Order of Things

Disclaimer: I do not own Hunger Games. I am not making money off this story.

A/N: Thank you my dear reviewers. Love you. Mean it.

Another A/N: I've decided I'm a review whore. They make me giddy inside, and I'd do just about anything for just one more. Please tell me what you think of this chapter. Also, throw some song suggestions at me. Music inspires me just as much as reviews. It keeps my fingers tapping those keys.

Song Suggestion: Rudimental- "Not Giving In" Ft. John Newman and Alex Clare. I heart Alex Clare, so this song speaks to me.

**The Natural Order of Things**

**The Next Morning**

The next morning peacekeepers summoned Prim out of bed. They pounded on the door before the sun rose until she crawled from sleep, gripping a tattered grey shawl to her chest. Their white, polished uniforms looked out of place against the backdrop of dilapidated houses. She recognized one of them, Charlie. He had been a patient of her mother once, coming in for a spider bite on his upper shoulder. He gave a tight smile in recognition.

"You need to report to the train station in exactly two hours. Leave your mother at home and" he glanced at her mangy, woolen shawl, something her grandmother knitted long ago, "dress nicely."

She was confused by why exactly she was being summoned. The next hour and a half was spent with a knotted stomach, but right before she set out the door with her hair braided and her blue, home-spun dress pressed, a calm settled over her body as if she channeled her sister's ghost.

"Give me your strength Katniss," she whispered against the doorframe before exiting into the brutal morning. Grey clouds hung low over the town, threatening to suffocate it. The winter roared in with hostility. About a foot of snow must have fallen over night, and she struggled to step through it.

The crowd at the station was sparse, and the collective waiting people held a scowl, hating the fact they had to stand in such terrible weather. The camera crews shivered while working with the equipment. Small wisps of smoke rose from both the waiting train and human beings.

"There he is," a TV crewman whispered frantically, and they twisted their cameras to catch a glimpse of their golden victory boy.

Prim refused to turn her head until the last possible moment. When she did finally look, he walked past her without even an acknowledgement. Whatever force complied that she trudge out here this morning, he didn't seem to be a part of it, or if he was, he certainly didn't want her here anymore than she wanted to be here. Brutus and his styling team walked side by side with him.

He walked unto the gangplank. Brutus grabbed his shoulder before he entered. Cato stopped in his tracks, rolling off the offending arm. The glare he gave would have wilted a lesser man, but Brutus just gave a sneer and returned the scowl with a fiercer one.

"Fine," she heard him whisper. He pivoted on his heel, picking through the crowds with his eyes until they landed on her. The crowd waited impatiently for him to speak—this did not seem to be what was expected by the excited shivers of the capitol media crews. Cato took a deep breath.

"From this day onward, I plan to provide for the little sister of the tribute Katniss, the sister who she fought and died so bravely for, a sister whose name was her last word before dying, the sister whose death made me a victor."

He took a deep breath as the small crowd ooed and ahhed. Even the people who booed and hissed last night in anger, nodded their head in agreement. This was a good thing to them, something unheard of. Districts never helped each other out, especially tribute to tribute, even posthumously. She could read their expressions like a book—maybe he was as caring as Katniss, as selfless, they thought.

Prim couldn't believe people assumed this was genuine; he obviously hated every word exiting out of his mouth. His very stance suggested loathing: lips thinned to sharp lines, wrinkles in his forehead, nostrils flared just a tad.

Was she the only one who noticed?

But he wasn't finished.

"Each year I will send a care package with enough food and provisions, so she will not have to enter the Tesserae. And on her eighteenth birthday, I shall return to give her and her mother a new house with my future earnings."

A new house? Her breath caught in her throat, and she thought she might stop breathing.

Did he know that in District 12 building a house was a marriage proposal? Maybe not, but the random district 12 individuals in the crowd, including some peacekeepers took a collective inward breath. Prim felt punched in the stomach.

If a man went as far as building a house, the answer of the female didn't matter to the community. They must marry. Love did not matter as much security. A woman would be shunned if she refused something most of district 12 did not have the funds to possess. Most houses had been passed down from generation to generation.

A new house? It was almost unimaginable.

Prim didn't want it. Not for all the comfort in the world. She'd rather sleep in snow.

She didn't notice the sneering smile he gave her as the crowd cheered, cameras flashing wildly; she didn't notice Cato walking stiffly back into the train; She didn't notice the train puffing away until it was a black dot on the horizon; and she didn't notice the crowds dispersing, leaving her alone.

Prim came to awareness on an empty platform, the wind whipping her freshly pressed dress around her ankles. A single tear dripped from her eye. She felt too much in shock to give any other reaction.

Marriage? To the monster who murdered Katniss? Her life had become a sick joke, and she surely wouldn't accept. She didn't care if the order came straight from President Snow... she wouldn't.

She stood there until Gale came to get her.

**Six Months Later**

"Look at it while it's dying," Gale held Prim's head in the direction of the deer. It had an arrow sticking out of its neck, stumbling around, giving pathetic mewls of pain and fear. Prim wanted nothing more than to heal the wretched creature, but even she knew there was nothing to be done. The deer would die with or without treatment, and they needed the meat.

Finally, the deer gave up and lay amongst the soil, burying its nose under dead brown leaves.

Gale had been holding her back, gripping both arms firmly around her stomach. When the deer died, he released, leaving an odd warmth.

"I hate doing this. I wish..." she didn't dare mention her wish aloud. Not to him.

Gale understood anyways. He clenched his jaw and looked past the trees to the opening in the forest, revealing a small patch where light filtered through, and they could glimpse the rolling hills far beyond.

"You can't be sheltered anymore, Prim. You need to learn to protect yourself now that..."He didn't finish his thoughts either.

That brought on an awful knot in her stomach. She couldn't stand the anxiety it brought on, sinking to the rich forest floor. The closer to the earth she got, the more it smelled of dew and decay, life and death. She placed her head in her hands, trembling, breaking down for the first time since Cato left her at the train stop. That had been six months ago, and it was still all anybody talked about. School was nearly unbearable with the questions and stares.

She was surprised that many of the younger girls seemed envious of her position.

Prim grimaced when one of the popular girls told her she was lucky.

"He killed my sister."

The girl frowned. "Well, yeah but what did you expect he could do? Not kill her? You can't blame him for something he was forced to do. Besides he's taking care of you, that's something...and he's sooo handsome."

Anger boiled inside her, "He wasn't forced to do anything. He _volunteered_."

That shut them up for a little while, but not for long.

Peeta's family understood her pain, so did some of the Hob. And Gale...

Prim glanced up to see Gale leaning over the deer. He made a quick slit down the stomach and let some of the guts slide out. Now that the deer was finally dead, the corpse no longer made her feel queasy.

"You're all dirty," Gale said. His blue eyes glanced at her scuffed knees. "These new peacekeepers are looking for anything suspicious. We don't want to give them a reason." He lifted his arms to the back of his neck and peeled off his shirt. "Clean off with this." He chunked it to her, and she only caught it with luck.

Prim blushed at his naked chest and tried not to show how much it affected her. A brilliant warmness, starting in her toes, zipped to her head, and she was sure she was bright as the sun. Prim had never told anyone, not even Katniss, how much adored Gale. He left butterflies leaping in her stomach.

"But then _you'll_ be dirty."

"Better you than me" She wanted to argue with him, but the look he gave her gave her no such avenue.

She scraped off the dirt from her knees. Then suddenly stopped. She couldn't do this anymore-act like nothing was going on inside her.

"I'm scared."

He didn't even look up from gutting the deer. Blood pooled up to his elbows as he yanked and pulled at the innards. He stopped for a moment to wipe the sheen of sweat pooling on his brow with his upper arms.

"Don't be."

"He might hurt me. Oh Gale, he scares me. What if he comes back one day?"

"He won't. Not anytime soon." Then he went back to work.

She knew she was starting to annoy him, but she had to get answers. She fiddled with the end of one of her braids.

He looked up once more, leaning on the back of his heels.

"Besides he'll die in the Quarter Quell. In two days, you'll never have to think of him again."

"How do you know that? He could—"

"He has to go up against Finnick, Cashmere, and Gloss. Enobaria from his own district is a tough competitor. He's really lucky Brutus isn't against him. Even the weakest victors are a threat. During his Hunger Games, he fought against inexperience. Now he's playing with the big boys. I don't think he has what it takes."

She couldn't shake the awful feeling from her.

"But—"

"Look," Gale interrupted, turning to Prim, "I made a promise to your sister, and I don't intend to break it... even if he makes it, Cato still needs you, he won't hurt you. He's using you as his story this year for sponsors, killing you after would upset the game. By the time you get old enough, he'll have forgotten. He's just speaking for the ratings now."

"And if he remembers?"

Gale stood, and his nostrils flared. It was determination in its rawest form. She knew this face because it matched her sister's

"Then I'll take matters into my own hands, Prim. I'll marry you myself. That cancels any claim he could have on you. I dare him to try and kill you on my watch."

Silence vaporized the rest of the surroundings. Prim could no longer think properly, her heart beating pathetically fast in excitement. But it quickly faded when looking at his face. He wasn't planning to marry her out of love, just out of duty...out of his love for her sister. The thought made her almost cry.

And then she berated herself for getting herself worked up. Why would Gale, the most sought out bachelor in district 12, want her, a skinny little thirteen-year-old girl? He was the type to go for a Katniss: someone strong-willed and beautiful and capable. Prim could barely throw a rock and hit her target.

"And what if he kills _you_?" _Who'll protect me from the monster then?_

"Then you'll need to learn to use this," and he chunked his knife at her. She couldn't catch it, so it landed with a crackle amongst the foliage.

Prim picked up the bloody knife with shaky hands and held it in the air.

**Six Months Later**

Cato won the 75th hunger games, the Quarter Quell. One lone man out of 24 other lethal tributes, and again he broke through the odds. His last kill had been Enobaria, a terrifying tribute from his own district with flashing teeth. He mauled her with his bare hands, ripping her throat from her body with her own flashing teeth. Blood sprayed everywhere, and for the second time she saw his victory smile, stretching ear to ear, enjoying the kill, enjoying the terror, enjoying the pain. It brought her to her past and her future, Katniss with her head hanging off, and an image she had created purely from imagination, herself covered in blood, begging him to leave her alone.

She tried to ignore the ticking inside herself that began in her heart when he won. It took a few months to realize that the ticking was time getting closer and closer to Cato's victory tour.

The day of his arrival to district 12 came sooner than she wanted.

The crowds weren't as antagonistic as the last time. They didn't open their arms in welcome, but there was food on a low table by the stage, and a light scattering of applause followed his descent from the train.

A tribute who killed their own was despised, but a tribute who won the games twice was to be respected and not a person to offend.

When Prim walked into the largest building of the district, a peacekeeper led her to the front of the seats, forcing her to sit next to the family of the only tribute who had to be reaped, a girl from her class named Georgiana, since district 12 did not have any female victors. She barely stepped off the foot pad before another tribute stabbed her in the chest. The mother wept silently into a handkerchief in the few moments she was allowed to do so before the cameras turned on.

Cato came onto the stage with his mentor Brutus, following the same tired and old routine. The speeches sounded the same as last time, contrived and practiced.

He looked older than the last time, having lost some of his baby face. His demeanor glinted harder and crueler, if that was possible. However, the beauty was still there, except it was tainted by a new scar traveling from one ear to another, a gift from a lowly District 7 tribute who came out of nowhere and nearly lopped off his head. As if Prim's thoughts were a beacon, his eyes skimmed over the crowd before speaking, meeting her own.

He sneered, and then spoke into the provided microphone with a gravelly voice. She couldn't find it in herself to sneer back, so she turned her head to the side, refusing to look at him the rest of the night.

By the time all the speeches ended and the cameras clicked off, night already fell on the district and the bitter winter winds slapped against raw cheeks.

Prim feet crunched in the snow on the way back to her house. She learned her lesson from last time. Once she reached home, not even Lady, her goat, could entice her outside when the threat of Cato lingered. Although, Prim doubted that Cato would bother her again. What's the use of threatening twice? The image of Katniss was slow fading, a gaping wound still trying to heal in the community.

No, she had nothing to worry about this year. However, next year—or the next. It had to come to a head sometime.

"Hello, little bird"

Prim jumped from her thoughts. The night was so cold it was hard to think, so it took a minute to recognize Cato leaning against a tree just a few feet in front of her.

How did he get out of the night festivities meant for him? And how did he manage to get in front of her? She tried to be the first out, pressing herself against the mass of people to wiggle out. However, the road was lonesome now. All the people who attended were from the town, and she lived in the outskirts.

He stumbled close, and she smelt the reek of alcohol even from this distance.

Why was he drunk? He seemed the type to want to be in control of situations at all costs.

"You've gotten bigger," he reached out a finger, and Prim forced herself not to move, to stand bravely. He just flicked her braid off her shoulder. She'd been training with Gale for this moment. She was abysmal, but Gale tried to make her feel better about it. However, practicing against a stuffed dummy, or even Gale, was nothing compared to the real thing.

The real thing was raw and angry. Muscles bulged against the tight cloth of his shirt.

He brought his hand up again and brushed it along her throat, rubbing against the ribs of her esophagus. With one simple twist of his hand he could end her life and be done with it. He knew, and so did she.

"So frail. It's always amazing to me how something so tiny could survive into adulthood. You were made to be prey."

His hand never closed fully. It was just a promise of pain.

"Why are you still doing this? Why do you hate me so much?"

He wrinkled his brow in thought. The exhale of his breath made her feel as if she was sipping a drink for how potent it was.

"It's not about hate, little bird, it's about the natural order of things. Some are born to rule, some are born to follow, some are born to kill, and some are born to_ die_."

Prim had no doubt as to which categories he believed they fell into. He tormented her because he enjoyed it, enjoyed the chase, and when the time came, he would enjoy the kill.

"What was my sister?" She didn't want to stir up his anger, but she couldn't help herself. Katniss didn't fit any of those categories very easily.

His eyes flashed. They would be pretty blue without his heavy eyebrows drawing them down into darkness.

"The girl on fire was born to be hated."

"That's funny." She snapped back. She almost clapped a hand over her mouth. Where was this courage springing from?

She hoped he would be too drunk to hear, but luck was never much on her side.

"I'm curious as to what you mean, since I wasn't trying to make you laugh."

If nothing else, she had to stand up for her sister.

"Well," a frog felt lodged in her throat, "from what I could tell, you only hated her because she was so loved. Loved to a level that you will never know. That's why you promised to take care of me, right? Because everyone hated _you_."

The hand on her throat tightened, and with a single flick, he threw her into the trunk of a nearby tree. Her forehead hit a raised knot with a crack. Blood gushed with impact, and soon wetness dripped down her face. Crimson splattered on her old blue dress, the one that she was growing out of and was three inches too short.

"You can't kill me." Prim threw up her hands on instinct as his hulking figure closed in on her.

"Can't?" He tilted his head to the side, "I can do what the fuck I want. I'm twice the victor. I don't need you anymore."

He reached her again, and this time placed both hands on the sides of her jawline. Though his movements were less refined, the alcohol didn't dull his strength. She felt the power.

"I'm going to do what I was born to do, and you'll do what you were born to do. Little birds always die before their time, and fate demands I set things in order."

This was it.

Prim gave a little gasp.


	3. Of Beauty and Dirt

**Disclaimer:** Hunger Games belongs to Suzanne Collins. Some women have all the luck…

**Confession:** Brutus makes an appearance in this chapter. I must confess (I'm cringing), I don't remember what he looked like down to the specifics, just a vague idea of a brutish, intimidating man. I could have read the book again (Which I plan to soon), but, alas, it would have postponed this chapter. I know y'all wouldn't like that (Did you catch the y'all? Three guesses on my home state). I did Wikipedia it, but the search came back with nil. So I guessed and gave him scars. He chose to keep them after his games. Not sure if he has them, but my Brutus has scars, and I'm going to make it a plot point.

**Song Suggestion**: Ms Mr- "Bones"

_Enjoy, my pretties. _

**Of Beauty and Dirt**

But the twist never came. Someone grabbed the back of his shirt and flung him into the snow.

Gale took his place in front of her shivering form. His hand brushed her cheek and came back soaked in blood. His whole face was contorted in barely controlled anger.

"Are you—"

He didn't get to finish. Cato returned the favor, grabbing the back of his shirt, yanking him back and twisting him to the side. With a roar, he punched him in the face. His fist dully thumped his cheek. Gale's head twisted to the side, but he wasted no time and knocked him straight back in the nose. A sickening crack, and Cato stumbled backwards, clutching at his broken nose. Blood dripped down his lips and chin.

"Get away from Prim, or so help me." Gale spit, balling his fists in front of his body, ready for round two.

"Why should I be scared of a sewer rat? Get out my way before I skewer you. ," Cato spat some blood on the ground along with a chunk of white. Cato picked it up and stared at it in the light of the moon—a tooth. He glanced at Gale with fury colder than the world around them. "Never mind, it's too late for running. I'm going to carve out your heart."

And Cato could do it, Prim knew—she'd seen it. Fear for Gale outweighed fear for her own life.

But Gale just laughed, "Sewer rat? Isn't that what you called Katniss? If I remember correctly, she out fought _and _out witted you on more than one occasion. Maybe you shouldn't underestimate people. Besides alcohol's slowed you down"

Cato rolled his head from side to side, stretching his shoulders. He stumbled in the snow, trying to catch his bearings.

"She may have posed a minor challenge, but in the end she _died_ like the rest of them."

"If you thought Katniss was hard to beat, consider me the _real_ challenge."

Whatever intimidation Gale meant to contrive from that little speech, it didn't work on Cato.

"Oh Katniss, the_ love_ of everyone's life. Did you love her too?"

Gale's lips thinned in a grimace, making them pale as the snow with the pressure.

Cato's eyes dilated like a cats, and his mouth opened with a sly smile. The blood on his teeth made him into a demon, his handsome looks only added to the terror.

"You did, didn't you? But I'm guessing she didn't fuck you like you wanted." He smirked, looking down at Gale's clenched hands, "It must have been hard wanting such a frigid bitch."

Prim could see his end goal. Cato was trying to bait Gale into acting with anger, acting irrationally. It was working.

"Don't say another word—"

"Did you cry when I killed her? Did you want to kill me?" He opened his arms with the proposal, "well here's your chance. Because if you don't take it now, it'll be too late. I'll kill the little bird out of spite." He smirked again, as if he knew exactly the buttons he was pushing. "On second thought, I may just wait. It won't be long before I can do to her what I please."

What did he mean by that?

"You can't!" Prim spoke up.

"Is that what you think, little bird?I have President Snow, my guards, and now with my second victory, the people behind me? What chance do you stand?"

He was right. Damn, he was right. Who did she have to stand up for her besides Gale? If Cato wanted something, he was going to get it. The spoils go to the victor, especially one so well known as him.

Cato tried to step towards her in his usual habit, but Gale threw himself at him. Their bodies smacked together, and they rolled a couple of turns in the packed snow. Then it was fists and knees and fingers. Neither had the upper hand for a while. Like Gale said, alcohol slowed Cato. However, after a few minutes, even roiling drunk, Cato was getting in more hits. She could see who would win, and it caused anxiety to knock around her heart.

She needed to help, but wasn't sure what to do.

Prim spotted a tree branch next to her. Part of it was rotting, but the other part was solid. If anything else, it might slow him down enough for Gale to knock Cato out for the night, eliminating the threat of his presence for a few years, at the least.

The branch felt unsteady in her hands when she picked it up. Snow made a small blizzard as it danced to the ground, and she realized she trembled so bad that the leaves on the limb rattled with whispers. Regardless, she raised the branch above her head, intending to bring down upon Cato's head without hurting Gale, which was difficult since Gale's head was most in view.

However, after a few seconds their positions shifted, giving off a perfect shot to his head. Now or never, she coaxed herself. Prim clenched her eyes closed, not able to resist the pointless instinct to hide. _What if I miss, _her mind taunted. Cato wouldn't spare her either way, but one way may be less painful.

Before she could make up her mind, the branch was ripped from her arms.

"Don't be foolish," a low, rough voice whispered into her ear.

Prim whirled and came face to face with Brutus, Cato's mentor. If rumors were true, he was the only one Cato still feared. And she could see why. Scars mottled his face into contortions, seeming to have a permanent grimace. Enobaria wanted to make metal teeth to commemorate her winning, Brutus kept his scars. He stood about triple the hands of any men she had ever known.

Think black hair fell into his eyes as he bent over and spoke directly in my face.

"Don't make things worse for yourself. Stay put."

Cato had Gale pinned beneath him in a vulnerable spot, with his knees pushing down Gale's arms, leaving his face open and defenseless to Cato's attacks. Over and over Cato's fists came down full force upon Gale's face. Gale hung limp under him. Blood freckled the white snow around his face.

Brutus walked over to the melee on the ground.

"You little fuck." Brutus grumbled and ripped Cato's body off Gale and threw him to the side as if he was made of cotton instead of flesh and blood and bone.

Cato, still in a blind fury, jumped up and attacked Brutus. He got in a few good hits, spilling a small amount of blood down his cheek and from his lip. The attack didn't last long. Cato might have got in a few cheap shots, but he was not a match for Brutus, especially drunk.

Brutus grabbed both his shoulders and hoisted his body up, trapping his arms to his sides, making him unable to move. Then he shook him, as a child would a little doll. Cato's head clicked back a forth. A sliver of blood dripped from his mouth when Brutus flung him into the snow.

"Stupid little fuck," he kicked the boy in the ribs, causing a loud groan, "I told you to stay inside and behave. Do you know how much is resting on your good behavior? Do you know what this could cost us? For what…"

Brutus stopped his assault abruptly and turned his head to glance a Prim, as if seeing her for the first time. After Brutus grabbed Cato, Prim had subconsciously edged her way over to Gale, who groaned on the ground, clutching his battered face. _Good_, she couldn't help think, _noise means life_. Prim was now kneeling next to him and brought his head into her lap, leaving a trail of blood to mar the purity of the snow. She picked up some of the snow and began to cleanse his face with it.

Brutus didn't study her for long. He kicked Cato one last time in the ribs. Cato grunted and moaned, rolling over and spitting blood tinged saliva on the ground.

"I'm going to leave you here in this bitch of a place until you think you've learned your lesson. Once you think you have, you can clean yourself up, act like a goddamn man, and participate in your celebration."

Cato didn't answer, just let his head plop back in the snow, head up to the stars, with an expression of great pain. Brutus wrinkled his lip in obvious disgust. He glanced back at Prim.

"The most feared victor of all time, and he spends his time terrorizing little girls." He shook his head, "Cato has many things to learn in life, and I'm almost certain he's going to learn them too late. Come, let's get you home, little girl."

"But what about Gale?"

Brutus looked at the battered boy in her arms as if it was the first time he'd seen him. Then he sighed, deeply.

"Oh hell. I guess I'm already playing nanny to a useless creature, why not one more?"

Brutus leaned down and scooped up Gale's body as if he weighed nothing. Gale was awake enough to protest, but stopped short with a glare from the man holding him.

The trek back to their shack was long and cold. Each breath floated to the heavens in wisps, saturating the air with the warmth of life. They traveled in total silence. Brutus did not seem to be the type to make small talk, Gale was too hurt to speak, and Prim was too rattled by what she just went through. The night was so cold, even the insects and birds let the silence swallow the night.

All the lights in the shack were off. Her mother rarely let light into the cabin, as if scared of seeing memories in the shadows. Prim creaked the door open, and struck a match, placing it in a small glass lantern. As the flames whooshed into existence, the wick crackled around the small amount of oil left.

The light illuminated the dark innards of the shack, and Prim found her mother sitting in a chair next to the dying embers of a fire, staring into the glowing coals.

"Oh mother," she exclaimed, "I told you not to let the fire go out. You'll catch your death."

Brutus grunted behind her, and she turned to see him shifting the weight of Gale. The boy in his arms hung limp now, passed out. Prims mind raced: he could have a concussion.

"Wake him up," she tried to keep the panic out of her voice, "if you don't, he might not ever again. Bring him over here."

She led him to a small alcove in the corner with a small bed nestled into the crevices. At least it used to feel small when Katniss shared it with her, but now it felt endless, as if she might be lost in the covers before the night ended.

Brutus lowered the injured boy unto the bed, and it was exactly this moment Prim realized how out of her element she was. Her mother was the one who worked magic on internal wounds. Prim wasn't sure what to do, but her mother might. If she could wake her from the fog…

"Can you get my mother?" The large giant looked as if he might protest, but he shook his head and headed to the fire.

"Wake up woman," he shook her gently by the shoulder. When she didn't respond, he shook a little harder and turned her chin upwards so the light illuminated her delicate features, her golden hair, her wide, blue eyes. A flash of something crossed the brute's face before vanishing.

"What's wrong with her? Her eyes are open, but…"

How could she explain her mother, her sadness, her inability to cope?

"She's been like this, since… since… Katniss…"

Prim didn't need to explain anymore. Brutus nodded.

"Is there anything she'll wake for?"

"Not much." Prim shrugged, feeling helpless again. Her mother had promised Katniss not to leave Prim like this. She had promised, and now…

Brutus furrowed his brows in thought, then smoothed them in an instant, a small smile on his lips.

"I know how to wake a woman."

Brutus dragged Prim's mother up by the shoulders, bent his face, and kissed her lips.

Her mother's eyes widened, and in a second, she came alive. Her hand whipped faster than a fire spreading in the Seam, smacking against the brute's cheek, leaving a red stinging mark.

"How dare you!"

Brutus smirked for a moment before continuing his frown.

"Your daughter needs you."

Her mother seemed taken aback, as if this was all new information. As if she hadn't been sitting in the chair for the whole scene. She glanced towards the bed, her eyes still half glazed and red-rimmed. A little crazy still danced around the edges, but at least cognizant.

"Oh Gale…"

Her mother came to Prim's rescue. She stepped aside and let her work.

**Several Hours Later**

Several hours later and her mother dropped back into her catatonic state, but at least Gale was on the mend. Several bags of fresh snow plastered themselves against his forehead and chest. He was awake but barely, eyes squeezed in pain with every movement. Prim brushed some strands of hair from his forehead, careful not to let her fingers linger too long, though she wanted to run them back behind his ears, wanted to trace the outline of his features for memory.

"He'll live." Brutus' gruff voice came from behind her. She almost jumped with the sudden noise but withheld it. "I've had worse and managed to survive."

She glanced up to take in his features with the dying firelight. For the first time she noticed a few wounds marring his skin, almost hiding between the layers of old scar tissue.

"Here, sit down."

Prim stood up and offered the chair she was sitting in. Brutus frowned but obeyed, lowering himself against the old wicker. It groaned as if about to break, but held steady.

Prim rummaged through her medicine bag she had recently put together and took out a precious jar filled with amber jell like substance. It was a paste her mother made from various plants, including garlic. She never made an outright claim, but it helped ward off infections and the nasty pus that came with it.

Holding the paste, she came back to Brutus, who looked more worried by the second.

"Don't worry. This won't sting at all. I just have to clean your wounds a bit."

"I'll live too, you know." He held up his arm to try and stop her, but it was half-hearted and she pushed his hands aside.

Nothing stopped Prim when she saw something wounded in need of healing, not even the most fearsome man she had ever recalled seeing. She dabbed a bit of ice to his wounds and watched as the newly re-hydrated blood started to drip before cleaning them with a white home-spun cloth. Some of the drier, stubborn areas had to be scrubbed off. Then she took a bit of the amber goop and smeared it against his skin, enfolding it into some of his other scars.

Prim couldn't stop herself from staring at them. They were hideous, ugly long things, traveling in various paths across a face which would have been well-defined and handsome.

"Why did you keep them?"

She probably shouldn't have asked that. More than likely it was a personal question, but she was intensely curious. What could entice a person to sacrifice their appearance?

"The game of the kill is based more on intimidation than on actual talent. I want everyone to remember what they should fear."

She agreed with him, but it didn't add up because Brutus already had talent to spare. He didn't even need the scars to be intimidating—they were almost a cliché, and didn't strike the right effect. She thought of Cato. Sometimes beauty held its own terror.

He must have seen her hesitance, her disbelief, for he sighed.

"In my position, good looks are a curse. Cato has had to learn his lesson, and I'm afraid it's taken its toll. He tried to lessen the appeal during these last games, but it hasn't worked."

Tried to lessen the appeal? She remembered the scar across his nose. Brutus was right—it didn't lessen the appeal as much as the thought turned her stomach. There was no denying the sharp angles of his face and the sheer power lined in the ridges of his body. But what did he mean by beauty being a curse in his position? She wanted to ask, but Brutus didn't offer up an explanation, and she was too scared to pry.

Though he helped her, he was still a brute. From District 2.

She finished her work, bandaging the cuts.

"I don't really need this." His eyes looked beyond her to her mother. He hadn't stopped staring at her the entire conversation.

"Well, I'm not made to sit by and allow any type of suffering."

He smirked, "Even a little kitten scratch?"

"Even a little kitten scratch."

He sat for second in silence while she finished.

"There, all done."

Brutus stood, looking uncomfortable with the attention and care he received.

"I should get going. I've been gone too long, and then there'll be questions. I prefer not to talk if I have to."

He brushed off imaginary dirt from his clothes after standing and within three big strides made it to the door. The wind whistled in when he opened it, battling against the wisps of flames still lingering in the coals.

"Wait," Prim said before he left. Brutus turned sharply. Prim dug through a small pouch on her hip where she kept the money from Lady's milk, butter, and cheese. She pulled a small coin from her purse, and snapped the purse shut quickly so he wouldn't see it was all she had. "Here", she held the coin out to him.

"I don't need your money, little thing. Use it to buy you and your mother something to eat. I know that even with Cato's meager offerings, you're still starving."

Yes, that was true. But...

She hesitated, but when he refused to take it, she put it back in her purse. She sighed, not able to hold in her feelings now that the long night was nearing to a close.

"Brutus?"

He looked startled she used his name. Maybe it was because he didn't know hers.

"Cato's going to kill me, isn't he?"

"Cato's a fool. He'll probably get himself killed before he can get to you."

"But if he does have another chance? If Gale or you didn't interfere..."

She couldn't finish. Brutus looked thoughtful. When he did, it seemed all the scars in his face pulled together like wrinkles. He looked her up and down, and then closely, studying her face. She became self-conscious and pulled at a pigtail.

"I wouldn't worry too much little thing. Cato doesn't know what he has thrown dirt at yet, but he will." He glanced up and down again, "He will soon. Give it a few years, and I'm afraid Cato may become conflicted."

She had no idea what he was talking about and was even more confused than before she asked a question.

"I don't understand."

He harrumphed at the back of his throat in amusement.

"Women rarely understand their power." He glanced one more time passed her and at her mother.

"Pardon?"

He chuckled again, reaching out and ruffling the flyways on top of her head.

"Just remember, little thing. Beauty can be a curse, but it can also be a weapon. Yours will be a rare blade someday. I can promise that. Use it to your advantage." He smirked again. "I have a feeling we'll see each other someday soon."

He tipped his head and shut the door, leaving Prim confused and no less terrified of the future.

A/N: So what did you think? Be ready, next time Prim will be 18, and the real fun begins! Muhahaha! Be kind and review. Love you. Mean it.


	4. A Killer is the Best Dancer

Disclaimer: Hunger Games, why I no own you?

A/N: Prim's finally older. Let the games begin.

Song Suggestion: Blue Foundation – Eyes on Fire (Zeds Dead Remix)

**A Killer is the Best Dancer**

**Four years later**

Cato's tribute won the games, a lethal boy about ten feet high with midnight skin named Vixor. He killed most of his opponents with a huge club, including a fourteen-year-old boy from district twelve.

Prim dreaded district two winning these past years, mainly because of the victory tour. It's been four years, and by this point everyone had forgotten Katniss. She was just another name amongst hundreds of dead. The sting of the people's forgetfulness had a twofold effect on Prim—now Cato didn't have to fulfill his promise. He could kill her, and no one would care.

There was one reprieve—she hadn't been invited to this year's victory speech and subsequent celebrations. Most of the town people were going to be forced to sit and watch a murderer give a speech bragging about killing their children. The poorer folk were going to participate in a far more enjoyable endeavor—a dance. Yulemass, to be specific, a tradition held every seven years to alleviate the sticking cold of the winter air and to court a future spouse. Since the town hall was going to be occupied, it was to be held in the Hob, the only other large, covered expanse of ground.

Prim stood in front of their treasured mirror, twisting this way and that, trying to get the best view in between the mottled spots and cracks along the reflection. She tried not to think of Cato. That he resided so close. That his body breathed within the same district. Besides, he probably didn't remember her. It had been so long.

Instead, she tried to harness the correct amount of excitement for her fist Yulemass. The last time she had been too young to participate. When she was younger, it had been all she could dream about. In fact, her dream had included a certain dark-haired man named Gale. In her dream, he'd do all the typical romantic stuff: ask her mother's permission to escort her, take her arm-in-arm, twirl her amongst the snowflakes, and end the night with a kiss.

The reality was far from the dream. Instead of Gale, she had his younger brother, Rory, to escort her. And though he wasn't bad on the eyes, he wasn't her dream. He had a tendency to pick his nose and scratch his bottom when no one was looking, and he sometimes smelled like cheese.

He was also her best friend.

She sighed, touching her hair. Her mother had curled it and braided it into a beautiful halo around her head—just like Katniss before she left.

A knock sounded at the door and she tried not to sigh in disappointment again. Rory didn't wait for anybody to answer-he never did-and barged right in.

He whistled when he saw her, giving a gigantic wink with his brown eyes he inherited from his mother.

"Looking good, Hot Cakes."

"Please refrain from calling me that."

"Anything you say, Sweet Cheeks."

Prim grimaced. "I'm not sure which name is worse."

"Well, I'll continue to call you names, Honey Bee, until you get your wonderful bottom out the door." He leaned against the mantle in an arrogant way, wiggling his eyebrows while staring at her said behind.

Rory contained none of the stoic, silent mystery his brother did. In fact, he was quite irritating most of the time. She wondered on a constant basis why she spent so much time with him. Most of the community thought they had a thing, just waiting for the day when one of them would break and the both of them fall madly in love. Many of the girls at her school hated her for that fact, since, as said before, he wasn't bad looking with large brown eyes, expansive shoulders, and a trim waist.

He should have been a great alternative to Gale. She tried to convince herself he was.

"Come on, you look fabulous." He walked up behind her, glancing over her shoulder into the mirror.

She gave a little twirl in her dress. It was an ugly thing, a hand me down from her mother, patched up in the back and let out a little in the bust. It was a pretty pale blue, bringing out the color in her eyes, but it faded with time and sun. Besides that, it came up two inches above her socks, at an awkward length on her shin.

"Alright," she sighed into the mirror again, "there's nothing more I can do."

She hoped it would be enough to catch Gale's attention.

**Later that Night**

The Hob smelled of rotting squirrel, but someone made an attempt to make it presentable with a strand of string lights, a table of meager donated food bits, and plastic sheeting to close it off from the bitterness of winter.

She and Rory arrived when the party was in full swing. Most of the food had been scavenged by hungry hordes of children, and someone must have slipped in some alcohol. Many of the teenagers danced with half-glazed expressions. The breath of the inhabitants made a fog with the piercing cold.

A fantastical beat—the latest song snatched from the capital—pounded out a melody. Not too loud. The party wasn't illegal- in fact, it was encouraged for breeding purposes-but no one wanted to tempt a city filled with peacekeepers, especially ones sent with the victory tour.

They found a group of grade friends hovering uncomfortably together in the corner, shifting from foot to foot. Prim stayed in that position for most of the night, but Rory didn't. He left her thirty minutes in to get cozy in the corner with Minda Parkerton. _Some date he was_, she wanted to snort with derision.

Her eyes searched the crowd for the first hour for a familiar shock of dark hair. But she gave up after that, trying not to feel down when Gale refused to show up.

"May I have this dance?" Someone finally asked later into the night.

Prim startled and turned to find a boy from her class named Trenton. She used to hold a small crush for him when she was small, but as he got older a terrible case of acne plagued him and he lost two of his front teeth in mining accident. However, he still had had the most beautiful green eyes she ever saw.

His eyes crinkled into slits with a close-lipped smile when she said yes.

Trenton's hands were sweaty when she grabbed them.

Again her night turned into a bit of a disappointment. She tried to twirl, like in her dream, but Trenton kept stepping on her toes.

"Sorry," he muttered with a red tint to his cheeks.

She gave a half-smile back, attempting to hold her wince of pain.

That was about the moment she felt it—a tiny prickle at the back of her neck. An instinct as old as the world. One of survival, of imminent danger.

She was being watched.

In the midst of a slow turn, she twisted her neck to the side for the source.

It came from the corner, with an intensity that scared her.

Cato leaned against a metal pole, arms crossed, with a cold smirk.

Prim's heart stopped and for a moment she didn't breathe. Trenton stepped on her foot again with the pause, but she barely felt it. She considered bolting, but only for a moment. How could she outrun him or escape?

In the quarter quell, he outran a man to disembowel him with a crudely sharpened branch. It had been an athletic previous mentor from district four. What chance did she have against him when she could barely make it down the street without gasping for breath? A predator's killing instinct was only heightened by the chase. No, she wouldn't run. Even if it took every ounce of her courage she had to stand her ground in her last moments.

He took a step, and she demanded her legs to not collapse. And then he took another, and she pleaded with her heart to keep silent. With each subsequent step, she prepared to meet the man who would send her with death. He walked with purpose, striding with an unhurried pace, knowing she wouldn't run, knowing she had nowhere to run anyway. The crowd started to hush as he pushed the mass of bodies. They parted with gasps, leaving a wide space for him to walk. Prim didn't blame them—he was the most feared man in all of Panem. The victor of two games, the murderer of twelve individuals, and the mentor of monsters. He could have them all dead with a whim, and who would care? They were just slum rats from district 12.

Their eyes never left each other's, even with multiple turns, until he stood before her and Trenton and tapped him on the shoulder.

"May I cut in?" It was a demand cloaked as a question.

The music screeched to a halt, and Trenton startled, wrenching backwards and almost losing his footing. Their bodies disconnected as he backpedaled. He didn't waste time to meld into the crowd.

Cato smirked.

"I'll assume that's a yes." And then He gave a small snort. "The prince charming gave up awfully quick on the damsel."

He moved, and she winced. But he didn't hit her. He held out his hand in a welcoming gesture, giving a little wave for Prim to take it. Prim stared at the venomous fingers. _Should she take it?_ She was confused by his motives at the moment. _Did he want to dance or kill her or both?_

It seemed the entire room held its breath, waiting for her decision.

_Stand your ground_, Gale's voice during training whispered in her mind, _show no fear_.

She brought her hand up. His fingers closed around hers. They were warm and rough. He gave a small side-smile as if pleased with her action. With a tug, he pulled her tight against him, placing her hands tight against his shoulder and gripping her to him with fingers made of steel. He began a rotation. Not squishing her feet like Trenton. Instead, they glided.

The music started back up again, and the people around them began moving, slowly, giving the dancing couple a large berth.

He bent his head, his hair brushing against her ear.

"Hello little bird."

They danced one whole song in silence, though it seemed louder than silence. The music choice was a heady, quick song with a deep thump thump of bass which vibrated her bones, and it didn't match their slow, steady rotations, or their heaping of tension. The cords in his muscles tightened when her hand left his shoulder and made its way to the edge of his shoulder.

He had aged a little, but only in a way that lost his boyhood and transformed into a man. And the scar was still there, but it had faded with time, traveling in a thin silver line across his nose. She tried not to notice his handsome features, but up close they were hard to ignore and even better looking than on the television: a straight nose, clear skin, white teeth, icy eyes, and a spattering of tiny freckles only noticeable upon inspection. He wore a certain intensity that would be attractive if given a different motive besides death. Instead of attracting her, it cleared her mind of any confusion.

"You've gotten older." He said out of nowhere, making her tremble without meaning to.

But her mind still worked.

"That's what usually happens with passing time."

His hand dug into her hip, but he gave no other outward sign of response.

"I see you've gained some misplaced courage as well."

"Maybe that comes with passing time as well."

He looked down his nose at her; giving her the feeling he was determining her worth.

"I almost didn't recognize you."

"I've changed that much?"

"Yes"

He didn't elaborate. She wondered how she had changed outwardly when on the inside she was still the same scared little girl staring up at him as he pressed her cheek against the goat shed. The same little girl who watched him murder her sister with a smile.

"I've been watching you for hours." He said after many seconds of silence. She tried not to show how much that disturbed her, but it must have shown through anyways. She wasn't Katniss. She wasn't made for this game of deadly cat and mouse.

"And what did you discover?"

"You're still pathetically easy prey. My pinky finger could kill you. Yet still… it was fascinating to see the amount of terror you caused in people, despite your weakness."

"Terror?"

"Yes, terror. Why else do you think it took half the night for someone to find the courage to ask you to dance?"

He pushed her outward, making her body give a sudden twirl, then brought her back in a fluid movement. Her fingers rested on his chest. His heart thumped beneath her fingertips. She was surprised by how hard it beat, so furious it nearly bounced against his soft linen green shirt.

It made her wary, unsure of his motive.

"How did you get out of the victory celebration at the Mayor's?"

"I'm no longer the victor. They no longer care when I leave or stay. Or where I go. I can wander all night if I want."

The threat was barely concealed—there was no monitor for his behavior. No more Brutus to save the day.

Cato quickened the pace, flinging her out and bringing her back in. She hated to admit it, but Cato was a superb dancer, almost as good as the mythical man of her dreams, and for some stupid reason her thoughts translated into words.

"You're a pretty good dancer for a murderer."

Cato's eyes glinted with the limited light, focusing not on her eyes but on her mouth and then her neck.

"Darling, a killer is the best dancer. Didn't you know that? Death and war are very much a dance."

She shuddered and this time she knew he felt it, and hated herself for it. It gave away any power she wanted to pretend to possess.

"Are you going to kill me?"

"That depends."

He still wouldn't look her in the eyes, and it made her nervous and fragile like the little bird he claimed her to be. Like something terrible was about to happen.

"On what?"

"On your response."

"My response to wha—"

His lips cut her off.

She only stopped to notice their softness for a stunned second before stopping, pulling back, and slapping his face. She felt a shock go up her arm and into her elbow.

He brushed his cheek with two fingers, staring at her with his head cocked to the side, as if once again determining her worth.

"Kill me if you must, but I'll be damned if I let you do that again."

Once again, the people around her gasped and the music stopped. She expected for her neck to be snapped. But he surprised her with a smile.

"Careful now. Think of consequences before completing the action."

It was a second chance. A rare opportunity to let him save face in front of a waiting crowd.

"You're revolting."

He let go of Prim, giving a small bow of acknowledgement of her decision.

"I'll be seeing you later, little bird." He turned and took three steps before pivoting on his heel. His eyes glanced her up and down, and she squirmed under the scrutiny, "I'm actually glad it turned out this way."

He walked past the plastic sheeting into the cold.

That's all it took to know her fate was sealed.


	5. How to Snare a Bird in the Wild

**Disclaimer: **How often do we have to post these things? Oh well, I don't own Hunger Games. I don't think anybody ever believed I did.

**Song Suggestion: **Florence and the Machine- Seven Devils

**How to Snare a Bird in the Wild**

**That Same Night**

Prim shivered in the cold. She didn't want to return home to her mother. If Cato showed up, he may not spare a life in the collateral damage. Instead, she crawled beyond the electric fence through the section Katniss used to hunt. She traveled to the still fishing pond where her father, a man she barely remembered, spent most his time. She hid in the concrete structure without warmth or food, hugging her knees to her chest.

_Why did he kiss her?_

The questions swirled and plagued her. The memory made her mouth dry as cotton. She wanted to swish out the feeling.

If it was a chase Cato wanted, she wouldn't be easy prey.

However, as morning dawned, she began to see the flaws in her plan. Who's to say staying away from her house protected her mother? Maybe he came to kill her and found her mother instead. Maybe in frustration…

She couldn't finish the thought. It made her violently ill. She lost Katniss; she couldn't lose the only family member left. It would destroy her.

The brambles and thorns of the forest cut up her ankles, and branches made tracks marks in her skin as she raced home, almost stumbling over the boulders and pathways which had become overgrown since Katniss left.

She slipped past the fence, crawling through the snow under the wires, avoiding yawning peacekeepers as she went. They drank out of steaming mugs under the brilliant colors of the morning sky. The air whipped against her cheeks and was so cold her lungs felt slapped. An eternity in the snow could not dull the ache of cold seeping into bone.

She stumbled her way home, nearly missing a peacekeeper or two—the dangerous ones from the capital, not the ones Gale sold to. When she finally barreled through the flimsy door to her family's meager shack, she found nothing amiss. Her mother was in her usual place before the fire, rocking away with a piece of knitting lying idle in her lap. She breathed a sigh of relief.

The feeling lasted only a moment.

Her trunk of clothes on the opposite side of the bed was pushed open, and it had been dug through. Something grey perched on top of the small amount of treasured items she owned.

Prim picked it up and stared at first in confusion and then her stomach dropped low into the pit of her stomach.

Prim clutched a newspaper, the daily one from the capitol.

There, splashed across the front cover, was her. And not only her, but also Cato—the exact moment their lips connected. Someone had taken a picture.

The headline read:

_**Cinderella from District 12**_

_**Sorry girls, it seems the Districts' most eligible bachelor, Cato Carthage, the Lion of District 2, is off the market. Her name is Primrose Everdeen. Some of you may know her as Katniss Everdeen's sister, a tribute from district 12 in the 74th hunger games who volunteered to take her sister'place and who later went on to become part of the Star-Crossed Lovers. Cato famously honored Katniss' sacrifice by volunteering to take care of Primrose until her 18th birthday.**_

_**So how have the Beauty and the Brute come together? We asked Cato the question. "It just sort of happened. After my first Hunger Games, I was overcome with sorrow for Katniss' little sister. Here was a girl who knew her sister died for her. It just seemed the right thing to do at the time—to take care of her. We kept in contact through the years, and we became friends. Just recently it seems to have become more. At least, on my end."**_

_**But is it mutual? The picture seems to speak a thousand words, but Cato has doubts. "I'm not sure she feels the same way. It's weird, you know. I'm used to never knowing fear, but just the thought of her makes my palms sweat."**_

_**Cato may have his doubts, but Panem doesn't. The Capitol is already salivating over this hot new couple. Stay tuned, Panem: this relationship may develop into a true Cinderella story.**_

At the bottom of the page, something stood out from the rest of the type. It was a handwritten note in black ink which read:

**_Little birds may learn to escape their cage, but a true hunter can snare them in the wild. Enjoy your last moments in District 12._**

**_ CATO_**

The article made her go cold, especially Cato's commentary. Somehow, and she wasn't sure how yet, Cato did something awful, something that was intended to burn her world down. And now that the game had already been set in motion, she could do nothing but wait for his next move.

**Later that Morning**

Brightness blinded her as she stepped out of her shack in the morning.

"Prim," a voice yelled, "Are you and Cato official?"

"Wha—" She started. About ten people, with cameras poised at the ready, stood outside her house. They didn't wait for her to answer before click click, and her world went blind again. Spots floated in her vision.

They all began speaking at once, flinging questions at lightning speed, snapping photos, and shoving microphones into her face. Prim stood with a dumb expression on her face, still not able to understand completely what was happening.

The intensity scared her, and she backed up against the wood. Like wolves, they descended.

"Back off!" A male voice yelled at the crowd. Gale soon showed himself and barreled through, pushing people aside with his broad shoulders. Gale opened the door, gripped Prim by the shouler, and threw her in. She stumbled backwards, barley catching herself against the corner off the rough-hewn table. Gale slammed the door behind him, cutting off the bright lights and screaming reports, and wasted no time smacking a copy of the newspaper on an open spot on the table.

"Can you tell me the meaning of this?"

The tone was sharp, and it took a couple seconds of shaking the cobwebs out of her mind before Prim realized he was angry at her. Very angry. Thin lines appeared between his eyebrows, and his body crouched as if he wanted to attack something.

"I didn't—"

"Don't you dare say you didn't do anything. Because this" he pointed at the paper, "Is something." He breathed through his nostrils hard a moment and looked at the ceiling as if trying to calm himself down. "How—how could you? This is…this is foul…disgusting. He killed Katniss. How could you forget that?"

The accusation took her back. How dare he blame her for something she didn't do?

"What do you mean what did I do? That cockroach kissed me. It's not like I would ever want—"

"You sure didn't fight it _too_ hard."

"And how would you know?" Prim spat, "You weren't even there like you promised. He scared me, and you weren't even there."

The guilt tactics she was using were low, but they seemed to be working. Pink spots bloomed on his cheeks, and he glanced at the floor instead of at her.

Prim's heart clenched. He hadn't been there, and she had waited. He had promised to escort her, but changed his mind at the last minute, sending Rory in his stead. She still held out a hope he'd be somewhere in the crowd, but the hope had been quickly crushed. She was afraid to ask where he had been instead. Probably Madge's. Since Katniss's death, the two never strayed far from each other's side. Prim couldn't help but hate the shy, pretty girl, someone she had a suspicion Gale cared about more than a friend. And the feeling was no doubt returned. What chance did Prim have? No matter how much time passed, Gale would never see her as anything more than a little girl. The thought nearly knocked the wind from her lungs.

Gale sighed.

"You're right. I'm sorry. I'm not sure why I thought you would ever…" He grimaced again, "But why did he? Why set-up the photo? Something doesn't make sense." He collapsed into the old rocking chair, which squeaked against the wood floor. "He wants something from you. There's an end game. I'm just not sure what it could be. Unless… no."

They fell into a deep silence. One of contemplation.

For some reason, the thought never occurred to her that Cato set up the photo. That took pre-planning and intention. That took a deeper reason than wanting a kiss or causing a scene.

Realization struck like a train, almost knocking her over.

"He wants to force me to be with him, and not just to kill me, or he'd have already done that. Not yet."

The statement came out in a horrified whisper. It seemed so obvious now.

"What?" Gale asked in confusion, "I don't think—"

"No,no, he does. Think back. Back when after his first victory tour, the one where he promised to take care of me. He promised me a house. A _house _Gale."

"He may not know that our district believes—"

"Maybe," she cut him off, "but he said he'd do with me what he wanted. Do you remember that? Right before you fought…"

The room went quiet.

Gale ran his fingers through his hair, making the ends stand straight into the air. Prim loved his hair, especially when it looked like this. If the situation wasn't so dire, she'd be internally fawning.

"True, but he was speaking to the Capitol for a cover story. I don't understand why he'd want to make it real. What _does _he want?"

Usually, she'd agree with him. But the statement felt like a slap, an undercover insult. Of course he wouldn't understand why anybody would want to marry her. Tears pricked her eyes. Prim stood, walking to the fireplace, attempting to cover the fact her eyes watered.

"The reason has nothing to do with me, I could bet on that. Maybe Snow is forcing him? There have been talks of rebellion. Gale, maybe they are more serious than the capitol is letting on. Maybe they need a distraction in between the games."

That still sounded far-fetched. But why else would he go through the trouble. Why kiss her? Why convince the capitol? She touched her lips subconsciously.

Gale noticed her tears.

"Don't cry, Prim." He walked over and placed his hands on her shoulders. She shivered even though she stood next to fire. "We'll think of something. He can't get away with whatever he's planning. Whatever it is, the districts won't be so easily fooled."

That angered Prim. She wiggled out of his hold, twisting to face him.

"And what exactly do you plan on doing, hmm? Cato's right. He can make me do what he wants. He proved it by this," she pointed to the piece of paper on the table, "already he turned the capitol to his side. They are 'salivating' over the new_ it _couple—the monster and poor girl. He'll get what he wants Gale, and when he does, when my purpose is served—whatever that is—then I'll be in a grave beside my sister."

Gale paused and his face went pale. He began to pace, once again running his hands through his hair, tugging on the end strands.

"I'm not going to let him."

"There's not much you can—"

"He's not the only one who made a promise to you."

"No, Gale. Don't sacrifice—"

"I'm a man of my word. And I'm not about to change now. I promised you and your sister I'd protect you at all costs." He stopped suddenly and dropped to his knee. "Prim, will you marry me."

_No, not like this,_ Prim's insides screamed. He wasn't supposed to marry her off a promise. It was supposed to be true love. He was supposed to sweep her off her feet, declare his affections for her in a rush of emotion. There wasn't even a ring.

Regardless, true or not, Prim game a small, sever smile, trying to hold in her tears. A little of her dream was better than none.

"Yes"

**A Few Days Later**

Her mother reached into her old wedding trunk, pulling out an ancient veil made from lace. The years were not kind to it-the edges frayed, and it was mottled with age stains. However, it was precious, about the only piece of heritage she owned. It once held value, unlike anything else in their tiny shack.

"This was your father's grandmothers. She wore it on her wedding day and her daughter after that. I did too. And now it's your turn."

Her mother was in a rare mood. She surprised Prim by coming alive when Prim came in and told her about her upcoming wedding to Gale. It was to be held tonight, in just a few hours, and she still couldn't believe it.

Gale had wanted to go to the courthouse right away to petition for marriage to be approved by the capitol, but Prim wanted to wait a few days at least. She needed time to absorb everything. She also didn't want it to be rushed. What would be the point? Cato had already left district 12 by the time he proposed. They had a year or_ years_ to do the deed.

She wanted her mother there and to wear a dress. Especially a wedding dress, even if everything else about it was a farce.

However, even a few days of leeway gave no real time. Only enough time to patch up a white hand-me-down dress and pull the wedding shawl from storage. She rubbed her fingers against the lace, wondering if butterflies in her stomach were normal. Did her ancestors feel the same thing? They fluttered so strong they made her feel nauseous. She always thought the night before her wedding would be filled with excitement instead of dread. Maybe it had to do with the fact the groom felt compelled to marry her, instead of wanting it.

Someone knocked on the door. Prim shook her head, getting up from her crouched position.

"That must be Gale." Her mother said with a small smile. She knew nothing about the arrangement. She thought it was true love.

"I expected this one day. I hoped for this." She had told her right before taking out the old wedding chest. "Gale's a good man. He'll treat you right the rest of your life."

_Yes_, she wanted to scream_, he may treat me right. But will he love me? Will be desire me? Or will he detest me for this?_

She was brought back to the present by a second knock. It was cold outside and, unlike his brother, Gale wouldn't just barge in.

Prim looked back at her mother.

"Go on. The dress and veil will still be here when you get back. Go to Gale. It reminds me of your father. He wanted to see me before our wedding too. " She smiled, and it nearly broke Prim's heart again.

Her mother went and sat back down in her chair, pulling her knitting into her lap. Prim gulped and went to the door. She wanted to chide herself on how ridiculous her feelings were. This was just Gale—he held her hand when she was small, used to put her on his shoulders to see things in the distance. But now she was about to marry him, and each step towards the door reminded her of that fact. She wondered why it felt she was walking towards regret.

She opened the door, swallowing her gulp to find—nothing.

What?

Prim stepped out into the night, wrapping her arms around her shoulders, warding off the cold from the little protection her blue dress gave her. It was meant for spring, not the howling winds of winter.

"Gale? Are you there?"

Maybe he was by the shed. Sometimes he came by to give Lady a treat or two. She walked towards the shed and only got a couple steps away from her house before the door slammed behind her, dissolving the candlelight. Rolling clouds hid away the moon and stars, leaving only a smattering of light for vision.

But Prim didn't need sight to know who stood in the shadows.

He was supposed to be already long gone after the victory tour, but there he stood.

"Hello, little bird."

She bolted to the right, but he stepped into her path. She twisted in an attempted to run the opposite way, but his arms grabbed around her waist, picking her up into the air. She kicked her legs into empty space, trying to free herself in vain. He held her flush against his body.

"Plan to run off and marry a fellow slum rat, hmm? If I'm not mistaken, it was the same rat who took my tooth."

Prim's almost screamed, but a wet cloth went over her mouth.

She knew what this was. It was chloroform. She used it on her mother's patients on the few times they were lucky enough to secure it. She couldn't breathe it in. She must not.

The seconds ticked by.

"Maybe you aren't as clever as you think, but I can see you aren't stupid. You know what this is, don't you?" He whispered into her ear. The scruff on his cheek prickled her skin. "Stop resisting and breath."

Tempting. Her lungs burned, but she knew if she gave into biological instinct it would be her last breath as a free woman, maybe her last breath alive.

Cato sighed into her ear.

"Things would be far easier, and less painful, if you learned to cooperate. As it stands-"

The arms around her waist slammed upward, delivering a painful blow to her lungs.

Her breath sputtered out and wheezed back in.

The world vanished into darkness.

**A/N:** Wa-Pow! How'd you like that?! What is our dear ol' Cato up to?

**Before people rant:** I put Cinderella in there. I figured if they still named their kids after Roman/ Greek origins, they might have a semblance of knowledge of our world. I decided they still knew the fairy tales. Besides, even to us, they are still really old and we still know them.

So, I'm going to start putting notes at the bottom. I like them better here, unless I'm posting a warning. Sorry I haven't responded to reviews as much lately. It's not because I don't love you (because I REALLY, REALLY do!), it's just because I'm super busy. I have a 5 year old, 5 month old, a puppy, and a new job. A little overwhelming. Luckily, I have most this story already typed out in advance, but bear with me on the responses. I feel it's a good day when I get a shower in, haha. In the meantime, I'm going to give special thanks here to my loyal fans.

**Special Thanks**: Bea0404, sweetStarre123, Rachel, HeyBirdy, and Lily. I love all of you!

Oh, and by the way, sweetStarre123, you are right on the money. I'm from Texas, y'all.


	6. The Puppet or the Strings

Disclaimer: Don't own. Sigh.

Song Suggestion: The Neighborhood- Sweater Weather

**The Puppet or the Strings**

**Hours Later**

Her head felt like a mine explosion, all colors and burning pain. Cotton ash coated a thin layer on her tongue. It took a few moments for her to remember that she was not, in fact, dead. It took another few moments to remember.

She had been drugged and kidnapped. By Cato.

Her eyes snapped open, blinking away the harsh light above her head.

Where was she? She lay on a bed, but it was softer than anything she ever felt. The closest equivalent was the time she made a large pile of fall leaves and jumped from the low limb of a tree into their depths. But this was a hundred times better. Her body sunk into a perfect mold, cradling her. The sheets were liquid water as she passed them between her fingers.

Was she in heaven?

She couldn't stop a tiny groan or her fingers from trailing across the sheets.

"I see you enjoy my bed." The voice came out raspy.

Prim shot up and dragged the edges of the sheets in a crumpled ball against her chest as a pathetic form of protection.

Cato lounged in a chair to her right. He wore cotton pajamas and left his long-sleeved shirt unbuttoned. The ridges of his abs were rippled waves even in a sitting position. She tried to calm her frantic heartbeat. There was a window right beside him, but the image blurred with movement.

_His bed?_ Dread laced her veins, poisoning her mind with paralysis.

"Where am I?"

"On the train back home."

"Wha—"She couldn't finish her thought. "But—but. Bring me back."

She meant to sound demanding, but it came out soft, tinged with the fear she hated so much.

"Afraid I can't little bird. You see, I need you. And until that fact changes, there aren't many options for you."

"Why do you need me?" She was pleading.

"You'll find out soon enough. You probably won't like it."

That was all she needed. Prim bolted. Her legs unfurled, and she sprung from her seated position. Praying to fly to the door. He caught her and flung her back towards the bed before she made it a foot. He was a lion, faster than his prey, sinking his teeth into its victim before it could escape.

His hands grabbed her hands like a strike of lightning and pulled them above her head. His body leaned on top of hers, sinking both of them deep into the feathers of the mattress. Their noses touched, and their lips were inches apart. The heat of his breath tickled her lips with his quick puffs of air.

"There's a lesson here little bird: there will be no escape, not in this game. I've claimed you, and the reasons don't really matter. Until death or deliverance you're mine, and that comes with certain… rules. No questioning, no disobedience. . Here we learn things hard and fast. Fight or die." He opened his mouth letting his teeth graze against her jugular. "Understand?"

She was almost too distracted to answer. The room felt hotter, and her pulse jumped against his teeth.

She nodded. What else was she supposed to do in this position? She was wary of what violence he would think up if she refused.

"You _stole_ me. You won't get away with it, even if I play along. Someone will notice."

"And then what? _They'll tell on me?_ The lion isn't afraid of the lamb."

He stared at her mouth as if distracted. She recognized the look.

"Don't," she breathed, "the first time you surprised me. But this time I won't allow you to."

Even when she said it, she realized her words contained no power.

A soft smiled, one of amusement, pulled at the corners of his mouth.

"I'm okay with a little theft."

Their lips touched. It happened so quick she wondered if it was real. He pulled back, again looking into her eyes, as if trying to gauge her reaction. She couldn't respond. Not yet. Her brain hadn't accepted it as reality, still hadn't processed the lips as soft as silk.

Prim had only been kissed twice in her life. Once by a boyfriend a few years past. It was sloppy and wet. He had opened his mouth too wide, and she had wanted it to end the moment it began. The other had been Rory. His kiss had actually been quite nice, but it was from Rory and lacking the passion necessary, and that ended the appeal real fast.

Both the boys she kissed previously had chapped lips. Everyone in district twelve did. Only victors could afford lips resembling silk. They showed his wealth, and left a pleasant tingle, despite how disgusting it should feel.

He must have thought her inability to move was acceptance, for he bent his head again almost touching their lips again. She twisted her head at the last second, and his lips landed on the corner of her mouth.

The hands squeezed her wrists, so hard they must be bruised, and she cried out.

"I see your training will be quite painful."

She shrunk away from his glare, trying to meld into the mattress.

"What?" He snapped. "Afraid of the Monster? Afraid you'll stain your own hands by touching mine? Get used to the blood, little bird. By the end of your life, you'll have drunk buckets of it. Now look at me, look at the Monster. _I dare you._ I assure you, it'll be a face you'll become familiar with."

She once heard that true courage came not from the absence of fear but of facing fear regardless. This was an open challenge, one she couldn't deny. If she did, she might as well snap shackles on her wrists right now. Their eyes connected, and though she wanted to disappear from his gaze, she held strong.

"You aren't a monster. That's too kind." Prim said, "You're the Captiol's bitch."

The back of his hand hit her face. Not too hard, but just enough to jolt her to her dangerous reality. After, he gripped her chin, tilting it upwards, forcing eye contact.

"I plan to treat you as you treat me. It seems you want me to be cruel. Be warned: cruelty is my specialty; it was the brand of drink I was fed since they placed a sword in my hand."

She knew of his cruelty. All her nightmares for five years consisted of him. They starred him bathing in her sister's blood with an awful smile, stretching wide, drenched in crimson. She once dreamed, as ludicrous as it was horrifying, that he carried around her talking head and would place it in a jar beside his bed. Even in reality, she wouldn't put it past him.

"Remember that. You're a puppet. I'll pull the strings, and you'll dance. "

She bit her tongue, denying the retort that her pride pleaded to let loose. She was no one's slave; she was no one's dog.

Her mind wanted to scream, _tomorrow I won't be here_. She fully intended to find an escape. The public would not condone kidnapping. That stretched the Capitol's bubble of docile, happy districts a little too far. President Snow would never allow it.

Or would he? Maybe he was the one to set this whole thing up. Somehow she doubted it. If the orders came from Snow, he wouldn't have had to do something like that at night. He could have walked in her house in broad daylight and delivered the order.

Regardless, she intended to find a way out. She may not be Katniss, but she was her blood. The same spark thumped in her heart.

Instead of back talking, Prim nodded her head in faked acceptance. "Please, let go. You're hurting me. I'll do anything you want. Just let go."

A small tear trailed down her face. She didn't have to work too hard to force it. It came naturally, for most of what she said was the truth. Her wrists felt like they were being squeezed in a vice, and her wits frayed at their breaking point.

The hands let go, and she pulled her own into her chest, rubbing at the red skin, trying to bring blood flow to the joints again. Prickles stung beneath her skin, her veins and tissue crying out for oxygen to revive them.

Cato's hand transferred itself to her cheek. It ran down its length in an almost tender gesture, gripping her chin and twisting it to the side to examine the place where he smacked her. It throbbed slightly under his touch, but didn't hurt as bad as her wrists.

"There won't even be a mark." He patted the cheek and stood.

Pulling a pillow off the bed, Cato placed it on the floor and lay down. Prim sighed in relief, thanking whatever God was in the sky that he didn't intend on sharing the bed with her.

"If you get any ideas of escape, I'll tie you to the bed posts for the rest of the trip, and I'll be sure the ropes will be tight enough to cut skin." He lay prone on the ground, leaving the light glowing bright overhead. The outside world zoomed by at explosion speed in the window as the train zipped silently along the railways. After a while, his breathing relaxed but his body still held its stiff form.

She reshuffled on the mattress, trying to get comfortable—an impossible task given the situation, the hazy future, and all the pain and upheavals of the last 24 hours.

The movement caused one blue eye to crack open.

"Little bird?"

"Yes." Prim answered, the sound of her weary soul coming out in her dejected voice.

"In the morning, we'll meet the world as a couple. We're in love."

"That's a lie."

"Lies resemble truth, sometime they become it. We're in love. Act it and live it. Breathe it and believe it. But most of all, for your own sake, for the sake of your mother, your lover boy slum rat, and everyone you ever loved, you better make all of Panem believe it."

The threat was understood.

How in the world would she ever get away from him with her heart still beating? How would she get back to Gale?

**The Next Morning**

Surprisingly, there weren't many people, or cameras. Cato slipped his hand in hers, holding tight before they stepped off, and waiting at the sliding door. The pads of his fingers and palm scratched her own, and they radiated heat. With it came a feeling of being connected, more constraining then if he went ahead and placed true shackles.

However, there were enough people to make her nervous. She saw a dozen men bundled up in thick coats made of fluffy fur from a nearby window, poised with cameras, their fingers already on the clicker.

Before the door slid open, Cato tugged her towards him and whispered into her ear.

"Remember the risks. Don't answer any questions. Let them guess."

A whoosh was heard, and bitter winds invaded the warmth of the cabin, seeping through her coat and dress and into her bones. The cold and the view took her breath away. Massive mountains jutted out on the landscape. Some reached above the clouds. Fresh snow floated to the ground, blanketing the earth with powder. Green spruce trees dotted the mountainsides, the only color in a sea of white, creating a view close to art. A scene so pure it hurt her eyes.

Cato's lips touched her cheek, and the world flashed bright. Click. Click. Click went the cameras. The light disoriented her; she raised a hand to cover her eyes.

"Put your arm down. If you let them get a few good shots worth their money, they'll leave. Whatever you do, don't deny them their shots. Oh, and smile like your happy. That's part of being in love, you know."

Prim listened to him, and forced herself to lower her arm and smile wide enough to show all her teeth. Anybody that knew her would laugh at how fake it looked. Of course, she wasn't happy.

After a few clicks, they stopped.

"We'll answer all of your questions in an orderly manner if you form a line."

The reporters nodded their heads, obviously happy to get what they want without much push. They formed a line and one by one asked their questions.

_How long will I be staying? _

_Not sure. _

_Why am I here?_

_To meet his family, and visit where he grew up. _

_So, does this mean it's serious? Is it official?_

_No comment. _

The questions went on in this manner, getting more noncommittal as they went.

After getting all the information they needed to print a story, the reporters packed up their cameras, rubbed their raw, red hands, flung their scarves, fluffed their fur jackets, and went home, leaving Cato and her walking to an old car.

Whatever negative feelings she had about him, she admired him for a brief moment. He handled the photographers with remarkable wit. It was a much calmer environment than the frenzied feeding of her reporter attack.

A driver was waiting in the car. As soon as they got in, Cato gave him a nod of recognition.

"Make sure she doesn't leave." He slammed the doors, physically locking the door. Then he promptly went to sleep. A sleep so deep it occurred to Prim that maybe he had acted asleep on the train.

**Several Hours Later**

Prim watched the countryside whoosh by. The beauty became antiseptic after a while, especially when the beauty held the sharp edge of cold, potent even in the cramped quarters of the car. She daydreamed until they pulled into a driveway. The winding road went from paved to rocks, jolting the car with every bump.

In the distance, a structure was built on top of a hill. As the drove closer, it became larger, dwarfing the landscape, only downsized by the massive mountains which jutted out on all sides. The house was entirely made out of logs, probably hewn from the woods next to it. A river ran its course next to it, winding down from the mountainside to run parallel to the road.

The road must have been a mile or more, and all she could think of was how terrifying the isolation was. Not only would it keep her close to her tormentor and away from anyone who could save her, it would also be next to impossible to escape alive—especially in winter.

The gravel crunched under the tires until they stopped in front of the house. It was the largest structure she had ever seen, bigger even than the mayor's house. It was beautiful though—with massive posts hand carved with images of nature, trees and flowers and animals. The air settled low, wispy with clouds, creating an ethereal feeling. Natural stone made up the parts which couldn't be made with wood, and the widows tinted the colors of jewels, sapphires and emeralds.

She almost said how beautiful it was aloud, but stopped herself just in time. She couldn't forget that no matter how peaceful it looked on the outside, the inside would be her prison for an indeterminable amount of time.

"Welcome to my humble abode," he stated with a bit of sarcasm. Nothing about Cato was humble, least of all his house. However, it still didn't match him. It was too peaceful. A stream bubbled over a brook to her right. The smell of pine and evergreen lingered in the air. The leaves on the tress whispered to each other when their branches shook, and in the distance an eagle cawed.

"I thought it would be made of stone."

The log cabin surprised her since District 2 was famous for its natural stone quarries.

"Naw. Too cliché."

He stepped out of the car, and went around to the other side, opening the door. He held out a hand for her to take.

"My lady."

Prim gripped his fingers and stepped down. Her eyes scanned the area, trying to memorize the landscape, trying to discover the route of future escape. It might be her only chance to see the outdoors.

"How come you don't live in victor's circle?"

"We ran out of homes."

"Oh." She couldn't help but think of the rows of empty, massive houses in her district, waiting for victors that would never come. Not for the last time did she think of what it would have been like if her sister had won. Would she be living in one of those houses?

It hurt to wonder.

Prim's shoes clicked against the concrete and wooden steps as she ascended the stairs to the front doors. She considered bolting, right then. She stopped. Cato stood behind her as if he anticipated her to run.

If she could somehow make it past Cato to the woods… but what then? After she made it to the woods, she'd have to contend with nature: the cold, the animals, the lack of food. Her obstinacy would just make her catch her death. No, she had to be smarter. Think. Wait. Listen for escape.

Prim made up her mind and reached for the handle of the door. Cato's face took on an odd expression. One she might nail down as hesitancy. Maybe he was rethinking his plans.

"There's something I need to tell you before you go in."

"Oh?"

Before he could elaborate, the door cracked open and a head of red curls popped out. It reached the height of Prim's waist.

"Daddy?"

"Hey Coral."

That was all that was needed. A red flash zoomed by her and wrapped itself around Cato's legs. Cato gave the head a little pat, and then pried her off him.

Prim's mouth popped open.

_Daddy?_


	7. Drown Slow, Darling

Disclaimer: No own, no sue.

Song Suggestion: Sóley- Pretty Face

Thank You: Lily, HeyBirdy, cd291104, Bea0407, Draco Lover, SweetStarre123, Rachel, Moogie19, and two guests for reviewing. As always, I love you dearly!

**Drown Slow, Darling**

**Later that Day**

Prim sat at the dinner table pushing her peas around with her fork. There was so much food: apples, pumpkin tarts, vegetables, and meat—oh glorious meat—three types of it, turkey, ham, and beef, cooked succulently in butter.

"You need to eat. You need to keep up your strength," Cato had told her.

But though Prim's mouth watered, not a bite made its way down her throat.

It didn't help that the conversation was rather stilted and awkward what with the only dinner guests being Cato, Prim, and his daughter.

She was a tiny thing with bright red hair which bounced into violent curls going every which way, as if conducting electricity. Her bright blue eyes—her father's eyes—gazed out from an open face with a wide mouth.

Three years old, she had told Prim, holding up pudgy, stained fingers proudly when Cato introduced them.

She spoke at a faster speed than when Buttercup jumped away from water. Prim didn't understand about half the stuff that came from her mouth because she jumped from idea to idea so quickly that she didn't care to finish the first thought.

She talked and talked, telling her about her stuffed animal, Mr. Lumpkins, and her pink bedroom (her favorite color, she said three times) until Cato told her to shut up. And she did. For the rest of the dinner, she sat with her hands in her lap, staring at the ground. Her brilliant smile extinguished.

He must do that often.

So here she was: a kidnapped dinner guest sitting between a monster and his sad child.

"Can I go?" It was the first words little Coral spoke in an hour.

Cato cleared his throat, considering her, as if he had forgotten about his offspring.

"Yes, you may."

The little girl swung her legs down, patted her mouth with the napkin, and all but ran, slamming the door behind her.

"Still terrorizing children, I see."

Cato's head snapped up with a sharp glare.

"Coral needs to learn to be quiet."

"She's four. You're in your twenties and can't seem to get the grasp of it."

_Wow. Where did that come from?_ She thought. The pain in the little girl's eyes brought out something in her, something not nice. It almost made her brave.

"Careful now."

Almost brave, but not quite. Fear won out again, and Prim stamped down her brief spark.

He glanced back down to her plate.

"You need to eat."

"Why do you care?"

"A guest should always eat at a host's table."

"I thought guests were willing visitors? I'm not sure the same rules apply if the person is forced."

"An unwilling guest should be more concerned about insulting the host than the willing."

Prim sighed. She was tired.

"Can I be excused?"

Cato gripped his utensils in his fingers tightly until his knuckles turned white. He glanced out the window off the dining room, staring into the mountains.

What did he want from her? Was it the wrong thing to say? Regardless, she couldn't spend another moment in his presence. He must know how much she loathes him.

"Only if you eat your food."

"It's not poisoned, is it?"

She wouldn't put it past him. She glanced at her peas, was this how he planned on ending her life?

Cato looked insulted.

"What would be the fucking point of that?"

True. He seemed to enjoy blood and gore, excelling in creative slaughter. When he finally got around to killing her, it would be more inventive and showy than poison.

Fine, she'd eat. What could it hurt?

Prim stabbed a piece of meat with her fork and brought it up to her lips. The protein stuck to her mouth like glue and slid down her throat without taste. She put her fork down, unable to eat anymore.

"Happy?" She asked.

He glanced at her plate and scowled, but gave a little nod in acknowledgement.

"You may go anywhere in this house you'd like. Take a step outside and you'll wish you hadn't. Oh, and my room is off limits."

Like she would ever want to go in his room. Prim took it as her cue to go.

**An Hour Later**

Prim wandered the house, trying to find a suitable bedroom. The expanse of the house from the outside had a limit, but the inside was another story. She lost count of the bedrooms and bathrooms, each a theme by color. The red room had a four-poster bed in the center with heavy drapes. The green room had a bright lacquered desk in the corner, with emerald pillows on the bed and a white linen bedspread which looked like powdered snow. The black room had much the same and so on and so on. About the sixth room she visited, it occurred to her that no one lived here except him and his daughter.

"What's the point to having so many rooms if they aren't going to be used?" To her mind, coming from absolute poverty, it was almost sinful.

Then she found it-the perfect room. Billowy white curtains framed a small patio, overlooking the bubbling stream with a perfect view of the largest of mountains. Snow covered nearly every inch, and the scent of pine drifted into the room. She leaned down and sniffed the sheets, pale and soft as powdered sugar. They smelled like cedar, a heady sharp smell that reminded her of Gale and her sister, and the times spent lazing and hunting in the woods. The entire room was white, but instead of being clinical, it was almost warm, soothing. The white was layered with creams and a shade of linen and light wood. Earthy and grounding. For a brief moment, she considered that living here might not be such a prison.

She might even come to enjoy herself.

She almost threw herself on the bed when a tiny voice interrupted her brief sense of peace.

"You in big trouble." She turned to find the girl with a finger in her mouth, a bad habit for a three-year-old.

"What for?" Prim placed her hands on her hips. She couldn't help but notice the wet streaks on the little girl's face, now drying.

"It daddy's room."

That surprised Prim. She had expected his room to be dark and broody. A theme of black or brown. Her fear came back, despite her curiosity.

"You're right. How about you show me a room that I _can _stay in."

Coral pursed her lips in an endearing pout, thinking. Then her face brightened. Her breath came in lurches and she bounced as she walked.

"I know! I know!"

Coral led her to a room right next door. Prim tried to stop her.

"I'm not sure I want to be right next to…"

She opened the door to a nauseating bombardment of pink. It looked like a rainbow vomited. Fluffy animals filled both beds and lined several shelves. A miniature house was in the corner, outfitted to look exactly like the log cabin but miniaturized. The only difference was there was a full family of dolls: a mother, a father, and about ten children of varying ages.

The girl walked into her room and pointed to the extra bed.

"You stay with me?" She paused for the answer, and Prim had never seen an expression more vulnerable, as if she already expected to be rejected.

Prim recognized loneliness when she saw it. Where were the other children to play with, the other people? Prim hadn't seen anyone beyond the servants, who kept their distance. The only good thing to say about district 12 was the amount of children to play with, at least when they had free time to play. Prim had never been lonely in her life; she almost didn't understand it.

Where was her mother?

The scope of Coral's solitude was hard to wrap her brain around, and cruel bedsides. An anger washed over Prim, more intense than the anger for herself. Cato didn't deserve her. He didn't deserve to be in charge of a life so innocent.

Prim never let any creature suffer, least of all a little girl with adorable curls and a sweet smile.

"Of course I will."

Coral rushed at Prim and attached her arms around her legs. Prim patted her head as the little girl sobbed, though she squealed and smiled and the same time, showing rows of tiny teeth.

"You came. I wish for you."

"Wished for me?"

"Yes. On stars. I ask them to bring me a new mommy."

"A new mommy?" Prim's heart clenched, unsure how to contradict her.

"Yes. Daddy say he find me one."

**The Next Morning**

The next morning, while investigating her new space in a spurt of boredom, she opened a closet in Coral's room, expecting to find clothes or toys, or whatever a three-year-old required.

She certainly hadn't expected to find clothes her size.

Exactly her size.

She even tried on an outfit to see. It was green and silky and beautiful, with a low neckline. It hit the right height on her ankles and made a lovely swishing sound when she walked. It made her cotton dress look exactly what it was: old, patched, worn, faded, and ugly. If it didn't have such horrible implications, she would love it. But given the situation, she'd burn it before she wore it.

After undressing, she balled the article of clothing up in a ball, shoving it to the back of the closet. She put back on her old cotton dress, relishing the way it scratched and smelled. It reminded her of home; it reminded her of her mother. A sick feeling twisted her gut, thinking about her. Was she being fed and taken care of properly? She breathed out her nose to calm herself down.

_Of course she was_, she told herself, _Gale wouldn't let my mother just waste away, would he? Of course he wouldn't… if not for me, then for Katniss. _

She forced herself to stop thinking of home. Not now. Not when she needed to be strong. She needed to focus on her predicament.

At the moment, she wasn't exactly sure what she was feeling. It wavered between horror and disgust.

Somehow, and she wasn't keen on the how, Cato knew her clothing size. Not only did he know it, but he knew it in enough time in advance to order clothes and have them made.

That meant that this was a plan long set into motion.

**Three Weeks Later**

"Oh no, you sick! I give you shot."

Prim played her part, laying down next to three of Coral's stuffed animals, Mr. Lumpkins, Cherry Blossom, and Bear Bear, on the cold surface of the dining room table, or in play world, the gurney.

Coral bit her little lip in contained excitement.

Prim gave an exaggerated wince of pain when the fake syringe pressed against her upper arm. Shortly after, Coral pushed a plastic thermometer in her mouth. Coral waited three second, but then couldn't contain herself.

"All better?"

Prim popped up, grabbing the little girl up into the air and tickling her sides until she squealed.

"Better enough to eat you up!" Prim placed the little feet on the ground, and they took off into the other rooms to go hide. She screamed the whole way. Prim gave a small chuckle and leaned against the table. There was no hurry. Coral was an abysmal hider. More often than not, she was either half-sticking out from under the bed or she giggled as Prim entered the room.

Cold hands touched her exposed shoulders.

Prim reacted like a cat, bouncing out of the grasp and across the room in a matter of seconds, gasping long breaths in from fear.

_How did he get in here without me noticing?_

Cato's stood in front of the window, brilliant light surrounding him, making his features into a shadow. He wore a loose top without sleeves, allowing his biceps and triceps to bulge and roll with movement. His face was unreadable. A smirk lifted his lips, but it didn't reach his eyes. Those flashed and rolled with something dark and dripping.

"When you're tired of playing monster, I could show you a real one."

Cato walked closer until he stood before her. His hand reached for her, but before he could make it, a sharp, sterling-silver steak knife pushed against the solid wall of his abdomen. She stole it from her plate six days ago, when the anxiety of him returning became unbearable.

The threat of a knife only earned a smile which showed his teeth. They glinted like fangs in the light of the chandelier. She thought the amusement now reached his eyes.

The hand continued, brushing against the fabric of her shirt covering her own stomach, making circles against her skin. She tried to ignore the sensation of fire.

"I see you've anticipated my homecoming." He looked down at the knife, and at his hand which wavered now near my hip, "And I also see you haven't changed out of that filthy dress. Have you even washed it? Are the rats in district 12 afraid of water? You're not in a sewer anymore, sweetheart, so it's time you stopped dressing like something I'd throw in the trash."

She desperately tried to control her embarrassment. She wasn't used to being insulted. Luckily, she had anger on her side.

It had been three weeks. Three damn weeks since had dropped her off at his house and left, with only a sad little girl for company. Not that she wanted to see him, but she really wanted to understand some things.

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why go through the trouble of kidnapping me, only to leave me alone?"

He tilted his head to the side before answering her.

"Miss me, darling?"

God, she hated it when he used pet names for her, as if he was intimate with her, as if she would ever willingly give herself to him, the man who murdered her sister. She wanted to spit and hiss like buttercup.

"Hardly."

Did he feel the poison in her voice? She hoped it paralyzed him.

But threats were laughable in the midst of a person used to facing steel and blood. He gripped the knife from her hands in a flash and flung it across the room. It made a thud into the middle of picture, puncturing the eye of the stately painted man.

"Why did I take you?" He leaned forward, gripping under her thighs and pulling them up and close. She tried to struggle backwards, but the wall prevented it. His lips hovered over her own. She felt the warm breath. "Because I can... because your life has been mine for years. And because I _fucking_ deserve _something_."

"You have everything."

Prim glanced around at the gold-rimmed china and the grandfather clock in the corner, giving a slow tick-tock, the chandelier dripping with crystals. If he had died instead of her sister, it might have been hers.

"Everything?" He tilted his head, his eyes examining her mouth, "Almost."

His lips pressed against hers, leaving her unable to breathe, unable to think with the pressure. She tried to stop him. Her fingers scratched against his cheeks, but the violence only made him moan and push harder. He bit her bottom lip, forcing her to open for him, and then she drowned. Drowned to the bottom of the lake where it was warm, and dark, and mysterious. Where death awaited for those who lingered.

She heard him curse into her mouth. The words mimicked prayer.

He pulled away seconds, minutes, maybe hours later. She lost track of the darkness he pulled her into. She struggled to make sense of reality. Her world was water, fluid and floating unable to be settled with words or emotions. His forhead rested against her collar bone. As the world rearranged, a deep disgust draped her in its ugly cloth. She fought him, yes. But... But...

What if Katniss could see her? The thought made her go rigid.

Their foreheads rested together, and they both panted.

"Get off me."

"You seemed to not mind a moment ago."

Prim wanted to cry, because he was right. She wanted to deny it, but the words wouldn't leave her lips. She hated him. She hated him. She hated him! Why was he doing this to her? He was supposed to kill her. She wished he would. It was better than the waiting.

"Just kill me… please, just kill me."

"Before I kill you, baby, I'm going to make you love me."

"No one loves you."

He smirked again. "My daughter does. She tells me so ten times every day."

"Give it time. With how you treat her, she'll hate you soon too."

Prim felt the cruelty of her words. Cato looked like she had smacked him across the face. Cato released her, and she leaned against the wall for support for her legs still felt shaky and unsteady.

"Get out of my presence." His voice was steel. She felt the imaginary point against her throat. "Go find a hole and hide in it."

Prim wasted no time and ran.

'

'

'

A/N I thoroughly enjoyed all of your reviews. Some of the reactions were amusing. Y'all made my day/ week. One of the best invoked the name of Batman.

Oh, and one review asked if I will include smut. M= mature themes of almost every kind. That is all you will get out of me because I'm evil and love torturing you, haha!


	8. Winds of Winter

Disclaimer: The only time I own Hunger Games is in my dreams.

Song Suggestion: Daughter- Youth

Thanks: Lily, wickedsis, 3vlee, SweetStarre123, AzkadelliaBlast94, jaclyn840, Rachel, HeyBirdy, Helena11, Chloe, and a Guest. Your reviews inspire me!

**Winds of Winter**

**Two Weeks Later**

"It's my birthday!" Coral screamed and jumped on her belly.

Prim managed to hide her discomfort at getting woken up. She plastered a smile on her face for the girl's sake.

"Yes it is, baby girl. Today is your day. We can do what you want."

For the next hour, they played "get well", her favorite game. Prim made it more constructive by actually trying to teach her some real first aid techniques. She even went as far as bringing her to the kitchen to make a fake poultice. They used different ingredients, but she said out loud the real ingredients for her mother's infection-reducing salve. Coral thought it was great fun, and after it was all made, they proceeded to slather it over each other and all over the kitchen.

"It's time for a bath!" Prim said, trying to wipe off the goo from Coral's arms.

Prim made bubbles with soap, so many they threatened to overflow the giant claw foot tub. Prim kneeled down and scrubbed the little girl. Coral had nannies to do these things, but lately she didn't want them, she wanted Prim. As much as it was annoying, it also made something in Prim's heart swell with pride.

Prim smiled when Coral dipped her head in the bubbles, coming up with her mouth and throat coated with white foam.

"Look, I'm daddy when he not shave." She went down again, acting like a fish for a moment before popping back out. "He come to my party tonight. He promise me. He promise me ten times."

"Can you count to ten for me?"

She proceeded to list off the numbers on her soap-webbed fingers, getting stuck on number eight.

Coral adored her daddy. Prim didn't want her hopes raised. After he cornered her in the dining room, he left the next day, only giving a small pat on the girl's head before ripping her from his leg. He walked out without even a backwards glance. Prim consoled her for days.

He left two weeks ago, without even an indication of when he was coming back. If it wasn't for the little girl, Prim would have gone stark, raving mad. She was used to people and noise and fresh air. The mansion was just one large, gilded prison.

Tonight Coral's fragile heart would be exposed to the sharp barbs of her father's indifference.

_He better show up_, Prim thought. She realized with a jolt that for the first time she actually wanted to see the blond victor.

**Later That Night**

It's been an hour. An hour past when he should have shown up. The food sat cold on the table. Pink streamers and purple confetti littered the room. Four candles once proudly stood straight on a chocolate cake; they had melted down long ago. The balloons were still aired up, but the little girl sitting at the front of the table with a pointed rainbow-striped hat on, was deflated. With each minute that passed, her chin sank further into her chest.

Prim didn't have the heart to tell her to give up.

"Do you want to go outside?" Distraction was the only thing left in Prim's toolbox.

Coral eyes lifted. They were rimmed pink, but they gleamed in excitement. Then they deflated again.

"He gunna come when we gone."

"Then we'll come back in and surprise him."

"With a kiss!"

Prim snorted, muttering 'not lightly' under her breath. Now that she thought of it, she never recalled Cato ever giving Coral a kiss. _How pathetic!_ She barely remembered her own father, but she remembered his goodnight kisses.

"Come on, we can have a snowball fight!"

A fresh batch of powdered snow had fallen the night before, perfect for shaping into missiles.

Coral still mused her bottom lip.

"Daddy told me I not allowed outside without him."

"Exactly why we're going." She whispered. Prim's heart overflowed with defiance so bright it would blind the sun.

**Thirty Minutes Later**

Prim found a window unlocked, which led to the outdoors. Luckily, it was on the first floor, making getting in and out of the house with a four-year-old easier.

The snowballs, snow angles, and snowmen distracted the little girl for a little while. Prim taught her a District 12 game called "snow day". Prim breathed in the crisp air, rolled in the snow until her ears burnt and her nose dripped.

For an instant, she looked at the distant trees. Escape. Home. The first terrified her; the second filled her with a longing so intense the fear almost left. She dared not think of Gale. But common sense prevailed. Tiny snowflakes drifted from the sky, and she showed Coral how to stick out her tongue to catch them. Yes, the air was so cold her eyeballs almost felt frozen. No doubt if she took off now, her toes and fingers would follow then she would turn numb all over—that was when it was the most dangerous. When she was a child, a man from district 12 fell asleep in the snow. He lived, but his nose turned black, and they had to cut it off. It was a lesson learned early in life—mother nature won every time.

A sniffle killed the rest of her dreams of home. Someone needed her.

She found Coral curled into a ball, mimicking the shaking of tree. Prim cradled the little girl to her chest, pushing the bright red hair out of the way. Her cheeks were pink, like they'd been slapped, chafing with the wet trails streaming down either side.

Coral put her mouth against her shoulder and gave little screams of grief. The cloth on her shoulder muffled them.

In complete silence, Prim brought the girl back inside. She drew a hot bath, scrubbed her, dressed her, and put her to bed.

Without even asking, she crawled into her bed and snuggled, bringing the girl close to her body to slowly thaw out. She heard the da-dum of her heart racing and racing until it slowed into a steady rhythm.

There were no words; she didn't need any.

"Sweet dreams, baby girl. I'm here. I'm here."

**Later that Night**

She woke suddenly in the night.

It took a few seconds to adjust before she realized a man stood over her. A scream almost made its way from her throat. But it caught and faded when she recognized him.

Cato held his hand out, inches above his daughter's hair. It hovered there as if unsure how to proceed.

"Don't you dare. Not after today." Prim warned. For the first time it sounded as strong as Katniss. Her heart thumped without her usual fear. In fact, she felt as if she could tear out his throat. She'd smile, too, like he did.

"Was she upset?"

"You're pathetic, you know. And you don't deserve her."

The darkness erased his facial features, so there was no way to read them. But his hand retracted.

"I know." He admitted once before exiting the room.

Prim was in so much shock at his admission it took a whole two hours of staring at the ceiling to go back to sleep.

**The Next Day**

Cato made her and Coral come to dinner the next day. Coral, in all her childlike forgiveness, still ran up to him and wrapped her arms around his legs.

Prim hadn't seen him all day. It was easy to stay separate in such a large space. Prim stayed on edge, though, not wanting to repeat the dining room incident any time soon. On the train, he warned of training and punishment. So far there had been neither. Prim didn't think Cato was a liar. What he promised her was coming. With each day that passed, the anticipation and dread built until she could barely stand it.

The dinner was silent. Prim was still furious at him. It seemed Cato was trying at conversation.

"How was your day?" He asked.

"Fine," Prim answered.

"Oh it wonderful," Coral began, saying her new word for the day, putting her hands in the air for no reason, "Prim's so bewteful, isn't she daddy. She let me brush her hair. The snails were outside my window. They left slime. It was ew, gross—"

"What did you do?" Cato cut Coral off, mid-sentence. Pink dots appeared on the little girl's cheeks.

"Nothing."

"We play tag, daddy, then we run through rooms, then we jump—"

"Are you actually going to answer any questions?" Cato cut Coral off again, glaring at Prim.

Prim shrugged.

The knuckles tightened around his knife, and his lips thinned into a sharp line.

"Daddy, we also—"

"Quiet Coral."

Coral sucked in a jagged breath and jumped from her seat. She slammed the door behind. Her pitter-pattering little feet could be heard slapping against the tile accompanied by cries. Prim waited until the little girl was out of earshot before she patted her mouth with a napkin.

"I've lost my appetite." Prim set down her fork and attempted to leave dinner.

"Don't leave."

Was that a demand? She thought so, but his voice had been unusually soft when he said it.

Cato wasn't looking at her; he was staring off into the mountains again. He sighed.

Prim warily sat back down.

"Coral seems to like you."

"How would you know? You're never around." Prim snapped back. Prim would never dream of talking to Cato so harshly, but something about Coral made her fighting mad. Prim couldn't stomach watching her sparkle die so many times. _It's amazing she has any sparkle left. _

Instead of snapping back, Cato leaned over, pinching his nose with his thumb and forefinger. Then he ran a hand through his hair.

"Look, I know I'm not the… best father."

"Understatement." Prim all but snorted.

"But I'm trying my—"

"Don't even say _best. _If that's your best, I'd hate to see your worst."

Cato hurled his knife, hitting the window. The glass exploded, leaving shards scattered all around them like confetti. Prim startled and began shaking. Her heart went to her throat. She bunched the tablecloth beneath her fingers, trying to ground herself. The bitter cold seeped through, and little snow flurries whistled past the jagged glass shards.

Cato folded down again, placing his head in his hands.

"What do you propose I do?"

Prim couldn't believe he was asking her for advice. She never thought in a million years she would be telling Cato Carthage how to parent. As always, when it came to Coral, her filters were off. Prim braved the lion.

"Love her, jackass. Kiss her, read her a story, spend time, play games. It's not hard. Coral makes it easy."

"Too easy," he copied, "She's too soft. I have to teach her—"

"Teach her what?" She tilted her head. "To be like you? Please don't"

He looked up from his hands and gave a cold glare.

"I get it, you hate me."

"No, I loathe you."

Prim had never seen him so raw. His fury was always so contained, his body language so hard to read. But after that comment, his face closed up again.

"Are you mad at me from last night? I couldn't help it. I had to be somewhere else."

"Oh, I'm mad at you for more things than that. But yes, that was pretty low, even for you. Besides, why are you trying to justify your actions to me?"

He tilted his head, as if considering. His words sounded measured and slow.

"I'm not sure."

The room grew silent for a long moment. Both of them stared at each other. Prim sat on edge, trying to guess his next move.

"You're training starts tomorrow. You're coming with me."

"But Coral will be here—"

"She can be alone for a few moments."

"She's been alone too long."

Cato frowned, looking frustrated. "Fine. Bring the girl. She might learn a few things herself."

"Do you mind if I ask you what I'm training for?"

"Yes, I do. Just shut your mouth and do what you're told. Maybe if you're smart enough, you'll figure it out."

Prim pushed her hands along her thighs, trying to hold back her anger.

"Anything else?"

Cato looked as if he wanted to say more.

"No… you can go."

Prim shot up, her legs had been prepared to flee the entire time. She pushed her chair in, trying to ignore the bitter winds biting into her skin.

She walked to the door, pulling on the handle.

"Wait."

Prim looked back to find Cato was on his feet.

"I've changed my mind."

He strode across the room with purpose. When he reached her, he gripped her behind the neck and pulled her suddenly forward. Prim could do nothing but go with the force. Their lips connected. Prim put her hands on his chest to push him away, but he just grabbed one of her hands and interlaced them. He stepped forward, making Prim take an uncoordinated step backward. She placed a hand behind her to touch the wall for balance.

His lips released hers with a pop and his lips trailed down her neck. Prim squirmed with the sensations.

"I hate you," it came out breathy and uneven.

"I don't care. You're here. You're mine… Coral is right, you're beautiful." He smirked against her neck, "If I had known the first time we met you'd have turned into this…" his hands traced the outline of her body, of the curves which were just finishing developing.

Prim doubted things would have gone much different. He would have still threatened her, pushed her face against the goat shed in cold fury. There was no way to fake such hate.

His lips went up to her ears, and he gripped both sides of her face. Just like every other time he cornered her, there was nowhere else to go. He was too imposing. He filled every available space and sucked the oxygen from the room.

"If I would have known, I would have taken you then. Hid you away until you came of age. You would've had more time to get used to the inevitable. By the time I got around to fucking you, you'd have begged me, you'd have loved me."

_Yeah right! _His words disturbed her, sending a tingle across her body. _He needs some serious mental help._

"I still have rights. You can't do this."

He snorted and pushed his hand up between her legs in a slow, agonizing crawl. The tingle enveloped her.

"Please," she begged before he reached his destination, "Please I've never… I haven't…"

The hand dropped away.

Her entire body erupted in panicked goosebumps. She was afraid, but not with her usual fear. She was afraid of herself, of her reactions to his touch.

"Today, little bird, today I'll let you escape again. But tick tock goes the clock."

"W—why?" Her voice shook and she felt a few tears on her face. "Why do you have to do this?"

His hand reached up and twirled itself around a loose strand of her hair.

"I wouldn't expect you to understand, but it's imperative you realize there is no going backwards for either of us. You can blame your dear sister, if you must. She tried to save you, but she damned you. I knew this day would come eventually. I hated you for it. I just never thought…" His eyes darkened. "Damn it, you don't even see it, do you?"

"See what?" She pushed her legs together as tight as she could in reaction to his stare.

"You're just too damn clueless. Too damn vulnerable. You've no idea what thoughts you cause. It was supposed to be a chore, a distraction, and then it would be over. I just never thought…"

God, could he just spit it out. She was tired of him walking around the answer.

"Never thought what?" She nearly screamed. Her fists went into balls by her side.

"I never thought I'd _want_ it."

His lips smashed into her, hard, possessing. It was brief, almost as if he couldn't contain himself.

"Fuck." He whispered against her lips.

His hands once again gripped the back of her neck, tangling his fingers in her hair. He pulled back just enough to glare at her, forcing her to look up at him.

"When I found out you were going to marry that fucking slum rat-"

"Gale's not a slum rat. I love him!"

The look he gave her reminded her of the ones he tossed around during the games, like he was a second away from breaking her neck.

Then he smirked and backed away, fingers detangling from her hair.

"Oh, how tragic. I see now how you favor your sister. She always loved the doomed too."

A shot of something cold went through her.

"What do you mean?"

"Baby," he drawled, "the slum rat is dead."


	9. Shattered Glass

Disclaimer: I don't own Hunger Games.

Song Suggestion: Tom Odell- Another Love

Thank You: Lily, HeyBirdy, 3vlee, KKTheFemaleBoss, Moogie19, Rachel, SweetStare123, Bea0407, and a guest!

**Shattered Glass**

Prim's world crumpled, and she lost sense of reality, sinking into the floor, welcoming the bitter winds to envelope her.

"H-How?" She barely got it out. She had to know if it was Cato. Upon seeing her reaction, Cato looked hesitant to answer. His fierce expression softened.

"Stupidity. Peacekeepers are a bitch to get past sometimes. Honestly, it was only a matter of time. I was going to, but he off and did it himself."

Prim couldn't listen anymore. His words were tuned out. Her soul felt frostbitten. There had been a sudden slicing pain, and then everything went numb and black. She couldn't do this anymore. Couldn't take the pain and fear anymore. Not when her world vanished, her hope. What would be the point of escape? There was nothing to go back to. _Empty. Empty. Empty._

Is this what her mother felt after her father died? If so, she didn't blame her. She forgave her.

She glanced at the gaping widows, the jagged glass, the howling winds. They were on the third floor, giving a magnificent view of the mountains during the day. At night, it became an abyss of darkness. It called to her.

She glanced once at Cato. He stared back as if trying to read her thoughts. At the last second he seemed to catch on, but he was too late, she got past him. Prim gathered her skirt in her hand and sprinted towards the darkness.

Cato tackled her before she made it, a stone wall smacking into her back. She fell against some broken glass. It sliced into her skin, but she barley felt it in her agony.

"Let me die," she screamed.

Cato pulled her into his arms. She tried to crawl away, digging her fingers into the rug, leaving tracks of blood.

"There now, little bird. There now. No need to be stupid yourself." He pulled her even closer to himself, and Prim gave up trying to escape again. Instead, she curled up into the monster. There was nowhere else to turn.

"There's no need to be upset," he continued as she sobbed into his shirt, leaving large wet blotches, "the pain will subside, and then you'll realize you have everything you already want. You'll never be hungry or without shelter. You'll never have to worry or work. You can't die. Not yet, anyway. I need you. If you die, I die. If I die, then what would Coral do."

Prim was tired, too tired to try and understand his ramblings. She fell asleep on his chest as he stroked her hair.

**The Next Morning**

She woke up in his bed. She didn't remember going there or even what day it was. But he wasn't there, and that was all that really mattered. She patted herself down to make sure she was still wearing her own clothes from the night before. She breathed a sigh of relief to find her cotton blue dress.

Her hands, she realized with a jolt. She held them up to the light to inspect them in wonder—they were healed. Not even a scar left.

_What in the world did he do to heal them?_

She shook her head. It didn't matter.

Nothing mattered much anymore.

Though the fluffy mattress and beautiful surroundings enticed her to stay, she snuck out of the room at the first chance she got. She found a random room—a room with the theme of yellow. It held a daybed, and she snuggled against the soft linen.

She stayed there for a full day, not able to think, alternating between dark grief and a disconcerting numbness. Coral found her the next day. She tiptoed into the room with uncharacteristic shyness, her finger once again in her mouth, a habit she had almost taught her to drop in the past month or so.

"What wrong?"

"Nothing baby. I'm not feeling too well, that's all." That simple sentence exhausted her. She fell back against the cushions, unable to say anymore. Coral seemed to know. She crawled up unto the bed and snuggled under Prim's arm. Then she twisted in her arms and placed her tiny hands against Prim's cheeks.

"It okay. You can cry. I cry all de time. "

Prim couldn't help herself, she cried, burying her face in Coral's wild hair, smelling of strawberries and sugar. It soothed her.

"Do you wuv me?" Coral mumbled a short time later when her tears subsided.

"More than anything." Prim couldn't believe how much she did. The little girl had wrapped her heart around her little finger. A single tug and Prim would do anything she wanted.

"And you'll never leave me?"

Prim's heart clenched. Cato would never let her leave. She couldn't escape. This was her new life in all its horror.

"Never." She tried to mask her pain for the girl's sake.

"Good," she nodded with satisfaction a snuggled back under her arm, wiggling a little to get comfortable. "I wuv you too, mommy."

When Prim glanced at her in surprise, her eyes had already fluttered closed. Prim kissed her head and was glad she didn't have to correct her.

**Two Weeks Later**

Cato didn't make her go to training, whatever that was, for two weeks. Prim would have refused to go anyway. She tried hiding most days, transferring rooms and places often to throw him off her tracks. Though he probably wouldn't have had to search hard to find her. She didn't question it. She enjoyed the reprieve.

One day, he finally found her.

"You're still moping? Get out of your fucking bed. It's getting ridiculous."

She was in the orange room now. She pulled coverlets that sparkled like flames over her head. Maybe if she didn't see him, he wouldn't see her.

But monsters like Cato were undeterred by covers.

He ripped the sheets down and grabbed her around the waist, hoisting her up and over his shoulder. Prim felt weak, not having eaten much in days, so she didn't fight against his touch.

"You smell like shit."

She hadn't taken a bath since the last time she saw him. He walked out the door and down the hall. She jostled with each step.

"I've let you have your pathetic moment, but it's over now. It's time to suck it up."

He opened a door. She couldn't tell which room he walked into. The floor changed from wood to tile.

In a sudden movement, he flipped her over her shoulder and dropped her. She didn't even have time to scream before water sucked up her nose and filled her mouth. She was under water.

_What the hell?_

She struggled to upright herself, coughing up the liquid and vigorously rubbing her eyes in indignation when she broke through the water. Waves sloshed out of the tub and out on to the ground.

"How dare you—"

Cato smirked and squirted a bottle of shampoo at her. It shot out and left lines of goo across her body and hair.

"That's better. Remember to lather well."

"I'm going to kill you."

And she meant it. In the past two weeks, she thought about it hard. She was tired of being the victim, tired of him forcing her, tired of his threats. It may be in a day, it may be in ten years. The time did not matter. One day she'd kill him- slit his throat while he slept, or poison in his food, or something horrid and creative. What did she have to lose?

_Your humanity_, a voice nibbled at the back of her mind. She tried to silence it, but like always, it was insistent.

He must have thought her threat was a joke, that she was playing along with his teasing. He gave a playful smirk and reached out to splash a little of water on her.

It was the most lighthearted she had ever seen him, and it disconcerted her.

"Wash that frown off too. You're much better looking when you smile."

"Why should I? Besides, how would you know? I've never smiled around you." She said, crossing her arms across her chest in a petulant mood.

"Don't tempt me baby. I'd love to punish you." He wiggled his eyebrows with the insinuation.

Prim couldn't help it. Her face turned red. She felt the heat crawling up her checks to the tips of her ears.

She hated that her blush gave away how uncomfortable she felt. Cato seemed to like it.

"Since you blush so pretty, I give in, I'll tell you", he crossed his arms on the edge of the tub and leaned on them, "Today you're training."

He looked at her as if gauging her reaction. Prim tried to keep her emotions off her face.

Cato sighed and rolled his eyes.

"Stay sour if you want little bird."

He stood and walked to the bathroom door. Before he left, he turned around.

"Oh, and one more thing-I forbid you to wear that ugly dress. I picked out something for you to wear. It's on your bed. Coral wanted to look like you, so I ordered her a matching outfit. She's excited about today, so you need to hurry up. You wouldn't want to disappoint her."

He slammed the door before Prim could reply. She blinked a few times, trying to understand what just happened.

Cato's upbeat mood was worse to digest than his anger. At least with anger she knew what to expect next.

A/N

It seems everyone is worried about Coral's mother. I can assure you that it will be brought up later. Prim wonders about it, but she isn't about to ask Cato, and Cato isn't one to share his life story. All in good time, my wonderful readers, all in good time.


	10. Club of Excellent Endeavors

Disclaimer: I own very little, and none of it is a part of the Hunger Games universe.

Song Suggestion: Lorde-Bravado

Special Thanks: Lily, Flowers Can Have Thorns, Bea0407, KKTheFemaleBoss, chloeann233, ashnfo, angelgirl818, AriaPotter, SweetStarre123, HeyBirdy, and a Guest for their awesome reviews!

**Club of Excellent Endeavors**

She was supposed to wear _that? _

A dress was laid out on her bed. It was bright pink with yellow flowers stitched into the bottom hem, which looked as if it would fit snuggly on her body. Black tights went with it to block out the winter winds. Next to it were gloves, black heels, a beautiful clear plastic handbag, a white wool overcoat, and a fur-lined _hat. _

Prim had never worn a hat in her life. The outfit was beautiful, but it was a little much and _not _what she expected. Prim had expected something... she didn't know, but something not a dress, much less a neon pink one.

She had thought training would be physical, like it had been with Gale in the woods, and had prepared herself mentally to handle all sorts of exhausting hardships. But now her ideas had been thrown off kilter.

What sort of thing was she about to walk into?

Coral bounced into the room with a look-alike outfit down to the plastic handbag and stitched flowers. The only thing different was her heels. Prim envied her inch-high shoes. They looked far more comfortable than the ones she would have to wear.

"Now I look pretty as you!" Coral gave a little squeal while twisting for her to see her outfit.

**Twenty Minutes Later**

Prim walked down the stairs carefully, trying to avoid slipping in the heels and breaking her ankles. She gripped the railing hard for balance. When she was a little girl, she used to dream of wearing heels like the people on TV. It usually coincided with her fantasy about the Yulemass. Now she realized how both were stupid. Cato managed to ruin just one more dream.

_People from the capitol make this look so easy! _

As she made her last rotation around the spiral staircase, Prim saw Cato. He stood at the door. The sunlight framed his body, dulling the edges with the brilliant light and bouncing off his hair, which had grown longer since she first saw him, long enough to place in a tiny ponytail at the base of his neck. The clothes he wore formed to his body, lining every ridge and muscle in his body. He actually looked ready for the type of training she had in mind.

He looked the opposite way, staring outside. Prim stayed silent, hoping for the least amount of interaction possible.

Coral ruined it. She bounced past Prim in her damn one-inch heels as chipper as could be.

"Daddy. Look at us! We pretty for you!"

Cato turned and glanced up. Prim felt inspected as his eyes trailed up and down. It was the first time she had ever been in anything besides a blue-homespun dress.

He smiled; he didn't smirk, as if won something.

"Yes," he said after a moment, soft, "Very pretty."

Coral smiled as if he talked to her, but Cato was staring at Prim.

**An Hour Later**

The entire car ride Coral kept her face pressed against the glass, making condensation with her breath and then drawing shapes in it.

Cato stared out the opposite window, and Prim was squished in the middle. Cato kept a hand on her thigh, higher than appropriate. She wanted to slap it off, but stopped herself. He was in a good mood, and no matter how disconcerting, it was better than a bad mood.

If it trailed just a little bit higher, though…

She didn't have to do anything. By the time it had inched toward the point of her resisting, the car pulled to a stop.

"What is this place?" Prim asked.

In front of her was a three story building. It stretched for probably an acre across, and she had no idea how deep it extended. It was shaped like a box, with thousands of windows, which reminded her of the eyes of a bug. It seemed to stare back at her as if about to lock her in a web and eat her up. What was her flesh and blood to steel and glass?

"Welcome to the Boys and Girls Club of Excellent Endeavors."

"You mean the Club of Excellent Killers?"

Prim connected the dots. This was the place she had been told of as a child, the place where well-off district 2 families sent their children to hack off a head with expertise and without remorse. She felt like spitting on the abomination.

"I'm not going in there."

If she went in there and participated, would she be condoning the system that took her sister's life? This building created an imbalance where one victor's circle was overflowing and another's was empty. The only thing overflowing in District 12 were corpses of children.

"Come now, little bird, you were doing so well today. It won't eat you." His hand tightened on her thigh in warning, so hard it probably made a red mark unseen under her tights. "If you don't walk on your own, I'll throw you over my shoulder again. If that's the way you want to meet your mentor, then fine."

Prim huffed and followed Coral, who had already bounced out of the car in excitement. It worried her how little she fought against his threats and orders and wondered how far he'd push her limits.

**Inside the Building**

"Didn't I tell you we'd see each other again someday?"

Prim twisted to see Brutus when she entered the building. She had been trailing after a running Coral, trying to catch up with her and get away from Cato. He hadn't aged a tad. The scars had a lot to do with it. If anything, age made him more handsome.

"Hello, Brutus"

"BruBru!" Coral screamed, running to the giant. She threw herself at him and he caught her, pulling her into a tight hug. It was an odd sight, a scarred brute cradling a tiny child with the same tenderness as if he touched porcelain.

"Ah, both the little girls remember my name. Warms an old man's heart."

His warmth faded when Cato entered the building behind her. Prim didn't blame him. Cato had much the same effect on her mood.

"And here's the screw up. Haven't fucked up enough people's lives, huh? Decided to destroy one more?" He nodded at Prim. "Not that I'm surprised. You seem to own a brain the size of a roach. I'm tempted to tell authorities just to see you swim in your own shit."

"What I do is my business." Cato scowled at his old mentor. "I followed the Manato Code. There's nothing you can charge me with."

"The Manato Code, eh?" He looked at Prim with a mixture of weariness, surprise, and pity, "Didn't realize you were so serious."

Cato looked uncomfortable, as crazy as that was to believe.

The Manato Code? Prim stilled, sensing something important. She had never heard of it.

"Again, my business."

"Not quite. The Manato Code doesn't exist in her district, dumbfuck. Maybe if you read a few books here or there, you'd have known that. In her district, it's theft, and it's punishable."

"Well we aren't in her district anymore. So it doesn't matter what her district believes... or her for that matter."

"Let's hope Snow agrees. He might not be so accepting of your actions when the districts revolt. They are on the edge of rebellion, and you're about to give them a cause. Just think how they rallied around her sister."

"They won't ever find out. The papers—"

"The papers can wipe my ass. If I know she's not here willingly, it won't take long for others.  
The look on her face when she sees you gives it all away. "

Cato's face worked hard and failed at controlling his temper. She felt the ripples of rage from where she stood.

"I'm working on it."

"Working on it, eh?" Brutus said and then suddenly tipped his back and laughed open-mouthed and loud. At the end, he wiped his eyes of imaginary tears. "This will be interesting. You do know to win a girl's heart, you have to woo it? Seems an impossible task for you."

"I won't stand for you mocking me." He legs spread into a fighting stance, and his fists balled at the level of his chest. "Not anymore."

Prim stayed silent throughout the argument, trying to dissect and absorb it as much as possible. The Manato Code? Wooing her heart? Prim didn't even know what to feel or even where to begin.

Brutus put Coral down with an amused expression. He patted her on the head, messing with her red curls. He faced Cato with a raised eyebrow.

"There now lion cub, no need to show your wittle claws. You don't want to get into a fight you'll lose."

Cato's looked as if he just might, but then thought better of it. He came behind Prim, placing a hand on the small of her back. His fingers gripped the fabric of her dress, as if trying to stake a claim.

"Come on, little bird, it's time for your training."

Prim didn't want to leave. Brutus had once been her savior, and she would never forget it. Coral didn't seem to want to leave either by the way she stayed glue to his legs even after he tried to extract her.

_Please_, she mouthed to Brutus. But he just shook his head, the amusement draining from his face.

"Sorry little girl. It's the code. I can't break it. Wish I could, darling. I'd take you back to that mother of yours in a heartbeat. But it's up to you now."

_Up to me? _Prim thought near tears. _What can I do? He's taken away my power already._

He turned to leave.

"Wait," Prim stopped him.

Brutus glanced up.

"My mother..." Prim didn't want to think of Gale, but without him, her mother was like a child, alone and helpless to the blows of life. Was she hungry, cold? Has she woken? "You know how she was. And now... _I'm gone_."

Brutus was silent, and his nostrils flared. After a moment, he gave Cato a look of death as if he would like nothing more to snap his neck.

"A girl is unlikely to fall for the fucker who put her mother into a grave."

Cato stilled.

"I didn't realize her mother needed help." Cato admitted, shrugging.

"Stupid, little—"

"I promised Prim I'd provide for her and her mother didn't I? Don't worry so much old man, I'll send someone to provide food or whatever." Her waved his hand, as if dismissing the concern.

Brutus stepped forward. He was intimidating at the best of times, but when he brought himself up to his full height, he was downright terrifying.

"You better, you little runt." His warned, "I'm going to go check on her to see that it's done. If I find you lied, I will tell the entire world about your sins and watch you burn with a smile, Manato or no."

The fingers gripping the fabric of her dress turned into a fist. Cato tugged backwards until she rested flush against his body.

Brutus shook his head once again, leaned down to extract Coral one more time, before exiting the building. Prim felt her hope and happiness leave with him.

Cato leaned over. She felt the edge of his lips lift up next to her ears in what she assumed was a smile, but his next words were anything but pleasant.

"There'll be no savior in this district. Not in this world, baby, not under Manato. You have me. And only me. Learn it now before it costs you something dear."

Cost her? She had no idea what more he could take from her, but she didn't want to push it.

.

.

.

.

A/N I have to go through a heart procedure on Wednesday. I have a condition, which is rare for my age, where my heart beats way too fast with arrhythmias. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't nervous. I'd appreciate any and all prayers from whatever God you believe in. I have an awesome cardiologist, and I trust him, literally, with my life. However, reading some of the risks is still disconcerting.

Luckily, since I have a significant portion of this story already written, I'll hopefully be able to update on time, regardless if I'm feeling up to writing or not during my bedrest.


	11. In the Lion's Den

Disclaimer: I don't own Hunger Games.

Song Suggestion: Ratatat—Gettysburg

Update: I changed the summary. I like this one better. It is much shorter.

A Special Thank You: Thank you so much for all your prayers. The surgery went okay. They had to shock my heart twice during the procedure because it started going crazy, which is sort of surreal, and I had a slight reaction to the anesthesia. But other than that, everything went smoothly. They aren't sure if they fixed my heart or not, so I might have to get the procedure done a second time, which is a little discouraging. Your reviews made my bed rest bearable.

An Even More Special Thank You: Lily, KKTheFemaleBoss, AriaPotter, katnisseverdeendistrict12, 3vlee, SweetStarre123, HeyBirdy, Rachel, DevilsAngelXX, Bea0407, Flowers Can Have Thorns, Xxxxx, and a guest! Thank you for your reviews.

**In the Lion's Den **

**A Few Hours Later**

"Take your napkin and flick it like this."

A young lady demonstrated. She must have been in her mid-twenties with dark, midnight hair and coal close-set eyes. When she talked her mouth opened too wide for her face, making it seem fuller than the rest of her body. She wasn't ugly; there was just something _off _about her appearance. Prim couldn't help but stare to figure out what was wrong. After thirty minutes, she discovered it was her skin. It was perfect, and not in the natural way. It glowed under the lights with the perfect amount of tan and sheen with zero blemishes or scars—an obvious gift from the capitol.

The lady came and stood by Coral to watch her work.

"Not quite dear. Try it again. A little more like this."

She glanced up to watch Prim next with a toxic grimace.

"Absolute awful form, Ms. Everdeen. It thought after that dining performance I would never see anything worse, but I have just been proved wrong."

Prim gritted her teeth. She flicked her napkin again, knowing she did it perfect. The woman just hated her for some unknown reason. Well, maybe not too unknown. She certainly didn't try to hide anything.

A few hours before, Cato had dropped her off with a little slap to the bottom.

"Go on, little bird. Here's your class. I'll pick you up later."

"Is this the one you talked to me about?" The teacher had asked, looking me up and down as if I was some bug that needed to be squished.

Cato winked at me, "The very one."

"I see what you're talking about," she looked me up and down, "she needs a lot of work to be ready for her position."

Prim refused to be offended by such an obvious tart. She was in such a huff, she even ignored the implications of what was being said.

When the woman looked at Cato, she gave a flirty smile, leaning in to whisper something Prim didn't hear and didn't care to.

"Are you sure?" Cato asked, rubbing a hand up her arm, "Is there any other way you'd like me to pay you?"

The woman blushed and giggled, but didn't answer.

"Remember," Cato smirked, "absolute secrecy. We don't want any loose lips." His tone was much more serious.

_Gag me_, Prim thought, disgusted with both their behaviors. _Is this how men and women normally interacted in district 2, or was it only Cato?_

Her discomfort didn't end when Cato left.

"Hello, what's your name?" The lady leaned over towards Coral, holding out her hand to shake it.

Prim's swelled with pride when Coral buried her head into her legs and refused to look at or answer the woman. _Good girl_, she thought.

The woman couldn't hold back a frown and sneered at Prim, retracting her hand.

"Right, follow me."

They entered a room with ten or so little girls all in dresses. The chalkboard had the title MANNERS CLASS for LITTLE LADIES scrawled across in large letters. Prim automatically felt large and out of place, something the woman capitalized on.

"With your, um, size," the woman gave her a look of pure loathing, "You should sit in the back."

Prim glanced at her name tag. It read Mrs. Manniola. So she was married! With how she was acting towards Cato… Prim shook her head and decided she already didn't like the woman.

Prim did what she said and sat down.

Three hours later and she wanted to beat her head against the wall. They had already gone over dining skills, proper leg placement, how to giggle, and now, napkin flicking.

What was Cato trying to teach her? She always enjoyed school and excelled at whatever her old teachers set before her. But this was ridiculous. Flicking a napkin? What use would she ever find for the skill?

Cato obviously found some worth in what she was teaching her or else he wouldn't be bothering. She just had to figure out what.

Mrs. Manniola caught on to her derision. About the time they got to sneezing "delicately", Prim couldn't help but snort under her breath. The teacher let it go with a warning glare. But then they practiced fluttering their lashes, and Prim couldn't hold back anymore.

She burst out laughing.

"What_ is _the problem?"

But that just set her off more. She tried to close her mouth, but her chest heaved up and down up and down until she could contain it no longer. Her breath bust through her nose and out of mouth, almost spewing. Her giggles eventually subsided, and she dabbed at her eyes.

_Cato can shove his damn training_, Prim thought.

"Ms. Everdeen—" Her voice, high-pitched and whiny, set her off into the giggles again.

She clutched her sides, enjoying the pain. It had been so long since she last laughed. She almost couldn't remember. Since Katniss, it was as if there was a cloud or a weight trying to press her back into the earth. In this brief moment, she felt free.

"Pointless."

"Excuse me?"

"I said pointless. This class and you."

It felt good to say what was on her mind.

"Out!" The teacher pointed towards the door. A section of her hair separated from the perfect curls, sticking almost straight up into the air. Her face was red and flustered. The thought that Prim made Mrs. Manniola less than perfect was oddly satisfying. "Get out of the classroom."

Prim stood, still breathing heavy, an odd giggle still escaping. A smile plastered to her face.

"With pleasure," she curtsied, making sure her leg stayed in the position she taught her. She fluttered her eyes for the last insult before kicking off her horrid heels, slamming the door, and walking into the lobby sans-shoes.

It took a few moments of delirious, almost-high strutting before the reality crashed into her. What did she just do? It was completely unlike her. Back in district 12 she was known as the quiet and shy girl, even before Katniss died. She was the girl that helped heal never harmed.

But something about district 2 brought the worst out in her. Something about Cato. Something about Mrs. Manniola. The culture breed violence and cruelty, and it triggered something deep inside Prim, the part of herself she shared with her sister. She wouldn't stand for it, not against herself or anybody else.

But what she did was foolish, even if it did feel amazing and freeing at the time.

_What would Cato do? _

Prim didn't want to wait and brood to find out. Get it over fast and quick. She was going to search him out. Besides, after getting kicked out, she wasn't sure where else to go. Maybe if she plead her case, Cato would bring them back home.

She didn't feel fear like she should have.

She strutted down the hall, still riding the feeling of being impenetrable and high.

**Twenty Minutes Later**

Though the outside of the building was shaped like a box, many of the corridors curved in a circle. There were hundreds of doors lining the path. She heard raised voices in some and passed a few people traveling in a hurry. They gave her odd glances, but kept going. One boy, probably about seventeen or eighteen, dressed in the same uniform as Cato, stopped in his tracks and stared at her. The attention would usually embarrass her, but in her odd mood, it invigorated her.

"Are you looking for something?" The boy asked. His voice sounded younger than her guess, and his face did too. His cheeks still rounded out with fat like a baby's, smooth, without hair. Prim looked closer. Maybe he was fifteen... or fourteen.

_What did they feed the boys here to make them grow so big!_

"Actually," Prim said, using this to her advantage, "I am a little lost. Can a gentleman lead a lady to her destination?"

Prim doubted he was a gentleman. Who knows what awful things he'd already done? But the boy nearly tripped over himself. She wondered what he would do if he found out she was just a slum rat from district 12.

"Sure. Where'd you like to go?"

"Are you sure you won't be late to wherever you're going?"

The boy rubbed the back of his neck.

"Well—no." He seemed to talk himself into it. "I think I'll be okay? It shouldn't take long, right?"

"I'm not sure. Is the training room far?"

Prim wasn't sure if that was what the boys called it, but she must have not been too far off the mark.

"Training room?" He looked down at her shoe-less feet and her dress in confusion, "What would a Manato girl want with the training room?"

_There it goes with the Manato Code again_, Prim thought. She had to figure out what it meant.

"Oh, nothing. Just curious. Some of the girls dared me to take a peek."

He eyed her warily, but conceded.

"It's right this way." He walked the opposite way she was going.

Five minutes later they arrived at a large two way metal door with a device sticking out from the side.

"It's a good thing you asked me. Not just anybody can get in; you need to scan your prints. Actually, now that I think about it... I'm not sure."

"Oh, please," Prim placed a hand on his muscled arm. "Just a peek?"

He gulped visibly, staring at the hand on his bicep. Prim felt odd doing this. She had seen other girls use their charm many times in school to get what they wanted. It came easier than she thought it would. It only took him a second to think before he placed his hand on the pad. The metal doors swooshed open.

"Just a peek, and then you need to come back. What's your name, by the way? I might have to keep you in mind for the future. "

Prim smiled at him. He smiled back. And then she ducked her head under his arm and sprinted in.

He raced after her, his fingers trying to tug on her dress but missing it by inches.

"Stop!"

The room came into full view. A cacophony of noise met her. The sound of clanging swords, shouts, grunts. A man in one corner lifted a gigantic metal contraption in the corner. The room measured about an acre in length with different sections: hand-to-hand combat, knife throwing, archery. There were other several random sections where she wasn't sure what the purpose was. But the biggest, and most important area, was swordplay. It was in the center.

That was where she saw Cato.

He stared at two fighters with a side-ways expression. After a second, he stopped them, pulling one of them aside. He grabbed the boy's sword, slicing it through the air as if it was an extension of his arm. He did it one more time, slowly, to show the boy again how to use it.

The boy that brought her inside placed a hand on her shoulder.

"You should go back. We don't want anybody to notice..." he trailed off.

Too late. Nearly every eye was on them. Prim glanced back towards the center of the room.

Cato, sword in hand, marched towards them.


End file.
